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THE PIED PIPER

Poetry By: moonphish
Poetry


moral : never rip off a magician


Submitted:Apr 2, 2012    Reads: 11    Comments: 6    Likes: 1   


the populace of hamelin

were some folks that loved their rats
when they would sup, they'd eat them up
and used their skins for hats
their tails were used as money
and their teeth and nails for jewels
the tailors chose the best for clothes
their bones they used as tools
but then came revolution
and the balance was upset
the children there said, "this ain't fair
these rats should be our pets"
the rat farms, they were raiding
and the cages were unlocked
the rats ran free quite merrily
the city heads were shocked
the town would be in ruins
if this trend began to grow
they needed rats but not these brats
the kids would have to go
then spoke a man, all dressed up
in strange multicolored hues
"i am a man who has a plan
my skills you'll need to use"
"for i am a musician
and magician just as well
when my pipe sings up truly springs
a quite amazing spell"
"i'll lure your children, madly
towards a labyrinth of caves
direction, tossed, they'll be quite lost
thus, your rats will be saved"
"but my work is expensive
and towards rat tails, i am cold
i'll do the task but i will ask
for ninety coins of gold"
now, gold was quite unheard of
but they had a plan as well
and when the slob had done the job
they'd tell him, "go to hell"
the piper did their bidding
through the streets, out rang his song
and as it played, the children strayed
and gladly came along
a cavalcade was forming
what an awkward little march
a dancing man with pipe in hand
the children, stiff as starch
he led them from the city
to the mountains in the north
and even though they trod through snow
no arguments came forth
the piper made his way back
to the township's city hall
though childless now, they broke their vow
and paid him not at all
they expected maybe outrage
but the gent did not seem riled
he turned and strode right down the road
his pipe a-singing wild
but there was something brewing
for the tune that he now played
allured no brats, but now the rats
joined in on the parade
the rodents came a-marching
every color , shape and size
the serenade the piper played
just seemed to hypnotize
and soon the folks discovered
that their rats had left their town
their short supply would soon run dry
no fresh goods could be found
then hamelin was a a-dying
all its people laid to waste
they had no rats to make their hats
nor flesh for them to taste
the piper has stopped piping
for the tune no longer charmed
he found his niche and grew quite rich
as rodents, he now farmed




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