Avarice and Cowardice: A Satire: Part 1
Only for avarice show,
Do ye conquer valleys of bones,
And whilst those brave kittens face the sun,
Thee, Me, Thou, Thine, the timid lions, face the moon,
And thine’s remarkable valor gives way when meeting a bump.
This dull medal, for what hast thou gotten it?
Timid bravery, pseudo valour, deceptive honor;
Thine own unique qualities, the medal beholds?
Accept thee does graciously, and while thee must, the sense
Justice hast dead.
March forth, ye does, with vicious valor, and with scornful pride I look,
Nose upturned, kind and sharp ye seem to be,
Thine’s amorphous appearance makes ye visible,
Through the trees, invisible,
And with a steely fondness they gaze.
Steely gazes you return, obervations make ye,
Kind ye seem to be, with sharp, vicious valor.