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By Mornin'

Posted Fri, 01/06/2012 - 04:29 by ThePirateKing
 

By Mornin'

How deep the dagger, as the red blood flows
How false be the Prince, in the dead man's clothes
How cold the dark run, o'er the trampled rose
But, will I find meself, in the mornin'?

Thru backwood 'n bog, and suspicious glares
The dogs let loose, the hunting men's flares
so weary the chase, elude all the snares
How will I find meself, by the mornin'?

Me trinkets taken, midnight on all fours
No joy or pleasure, not even from whores
The drunks 'n decayed, asleep on the floors
How will I find meself, in the mornin'?

With a hook finger, he pointed the way
"don't be scared, son, 'tis just debt to pay"
I did swallow hard, 'n galloped away
To search for meself, on early mornin'.



 

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