adamdaniel

Oh Such a Woe!

The blackness of morning envelops the farm,
When through the silence a pointed alarm—
Chickens in madness scream out from their roost;
Oh such a woe has been loosed!

In perturbation the farmer awakes,
Out of the holster a pistol he takes,
Lighting the paraffin lamp with a sigh,
Noting how raucous the cry.

Windy the staircase and creaking withal,
Out at the barn a vociferous call,
Yowling and barking to curdle the blood,
Squarking and fear in a flood.

Pacing in quickness the gun in his hand,
Hoping the ruckus to soon understand,
Old farmer Jenkins in patent dismay,
Marking the heated affray.

Swinging the doors of the barn with a rush,
Then in a moment a petrified blush,
Bloody the span of the evil within,
Animals roused to a din.

Blood on the balustrade, blood on the hay,
Four or five foxes with birds as their prey,
Mouths grinning blood with the carnage they’ve wrought;
Slaying the bantams for sport.

Jenkins in fury releases a round,
Yelling a summons to rally his hound,
Sounding out cries to the foxes’ surprise,
Firey the glint of his eyes.

Yelping confusion and jolted in fright,
All of the foxes race into the night,
Glutted with blood and the scent of the kill,
Glad to be wreaking such ill.

Cursing and blinding his bitter chagrin,
Jenkins in mourning — his animals kin,
Mopping the blood and the carcasses clean,
Stars in the window serene.

Tremulous quaking the bent of his hand,
Murderers! Guilty as sin on my land!
Sent to Gehenna — and na’er to return!
Sorry in hell they should burn!

Calming himself and caressing his dog,
Passing the paddock all wispy with fog,
Back to the farm to turn in for the night,
Rueing their pitiful plight.

Setting the lantern again in its place,
Wiping the sweat and the blood from his face,
Exiting out of this day gone awry,
God granting sleep to his eye.

Jenkins moves into a slumberous dream,
Planets above with a heavenly gleam,
Knowing the presence of God on new wings,
Luxury fit for the kings…

ADL