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Counting Bodies like Sheep: Galloway in Verse

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Benevolent Despot
Nov 7, 2004
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Counting Bodies like Sheep: Galloway in Verse

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There is a dismal land named Galloway,
Where free men once did roam
Upon those dreary hills, men fought for sacred throne,
A prize standing ever out of reach

The throne was not worth having,
Naught worth a piece of dung
However, all the same, upon it fate was hung,
A foolish place to place one’s faith if the faithful were not fools

Men and fools fought for that throne of nothing,
They plotted evils plots
Gospatrick, one man among the breed of fools, was worst of all the lot,
His fate will soon be told

Fair Galloway was not a place of great fame or fruitful fortune,
Just a place with many sheep
However the tale of its history left bodies pilled in a heap,
And so we will begin​

*****​


*****​

Hello, sirs. I would like to say one thing right off the bat, just in case anyone reads this or I find the time to continue: I’m horrible at poetry. All the same, I felt like trying to write in verse to give myself something new to do, as opposed to the writing I do in the forum’s RPG. Again, I’m not sure what will come of this story (Galloway: 1066 Campaign) but I felt like giving it a stab...
 
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A very neat idea!
 
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Scotland holds, within its hills, the halls of many lords
One man was master of it all: a tyrant and a king
The king was most unpleasant, a bastard brute at best
Yet, still, of the tyrant’s glories his subjects had to sing

Two brothers, both dukes of dismal lands, were subjects to the king,
Both were angry with the brute and all his evil acts
Like demons doing dirty deeds, they made an evil pact,
Murder they concocted: an end to all his evil acts

There was, alas, a problem with their plan: its solution quite unknown
With a groan, the brothers moaned; who shall steal the throne?
One brother, Maldred, answered, “I, who has lived a longer life”
The other brother, Gospatrick, answered, “I, who has the knife”

Maldred knew his brother’s statement to be true,
The realization made him turn a ghastly hue
His flesh cut with ease, while of blood of the color red he was bled
Soon Maldred was quite dead​

*****​

Thanks for the comments guys. I don't think the idea is that original; there might have been something along the same lines already. All the same, I hope you find what I cobble together interesting. To explain what occured at bit, I'll say that the leader of Galloway died, and his brother (Gospatrick) took the throne. Gospatrick is a schemer and, therefore, desires the throne of his liege, the king of Scotland :)
 
Badawi said:
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...

With a groan, the brothers moaned; who shall steal the throne?
One brother, Maldred, answered, “I, who has lived a longer life”
The other brother, Gospatrick, answered, “I, who has the knife”

Maldred knew his brother’s statement to be true,
The realization made him turn a ghastly hue
His flesh cut with ease, while of blood of the color red he was bled
Soon Maldred was quite dead​
Click to expand...

Nice poetry and even a bit funny :rofl:
Continue like that and by the end of the game you will have a great epic.

~Lord Valentine~
 
The life of the duke is ended by the knife.
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Badawi said:
With a groan, the brothers moaned; who shall steal the throne?
One brother, Maldred, answered, “I, who has lived a longer life”
The other brother, Gospatrick, answered, “I, who has the knife”
Click to expand...

:rofl: This is great, keep up the good work.
 
Part: The Third​

Gospatrick took his brother’s throne,
Was King of Galloway
But upon the golden throne he let out a wistful moan,
His power was too petty

He walked upon the misty hills of Galloway,
There dreamed of greater power
The depressed duke wanted desperately to rule the Scottish people,
Or leap from a church’s steeple

One night he came to a conclusion,
Or was it a delusion?
His army, he decided, was too small to steal the throne,
He would need to be more crafty

There was a wealthy woman, lived in Galpatrick’s court,
Loveliest of lovers and more beautiful that bliss
Gospatrick damned that lovely lass to the most freakish form of torment that exists,
We call it matrimony

Married to a minion of the Scottish bastard king,
The lady was a sly and stealthy spy
She told Gospatrick of his liege’s lies
Her fate is a surprise​
 
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Surprise!

For some reason my mind added that line to the end.
 
Ah, yet another in the long tradition of poetry AARs. I couldn't do it myself. Hats off to any that try. And this is fine stuff, Badawi! Keep at it. :)
 
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