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The Flock

Poetry By: Sambelini
Poetry



This is my interpretation (in rhyme) of what happens during the first half (more or less) of George Orwell's Animal Farm. If the formatting confuses you, I will explain:
Voice 1: Old Major - Centred but not italicized
Voice 2: Snowball - Left-Aligned
Voice 3: Napoleon - Right Aligned
Voice 4: Animals Collectively/The Flock - Centred, Italicized
Voice 5 (not really a voice): Kind of like "Stage Directions" - Italicized in brackets.


Submitted:Jan 23, 2010    Reads: 72    Comments: 0    Likes: 8   


Though they call us Beast and Brute
As if we'd not sense, if we were mute,
We've now the chance to give refute
Let us rise up! Let us uproot!
Not uproot ourselves, well heard
We fight the farmer, 'till he be interred!
Ourselves we arm, our land we gird
Join in, the flock! Join in, the herd!
For whom do we labour all day?
Who takes our young and eggs away?
We have earned more than our pay!
We merit leisure! We merit play!

Hear him! Hear him! He speaks true,
The time has come for all of you,
Your young, your old, of course, me too,
Let us all fight! Let us break through!
Yes, indeed, I too agree,
I see you all follow us three.
In honour of him who no longer be,
I follow the first! Shall you follow me?
We follow you, please lead us on!
We lack in brain, but not in brawn!
We all stand true, think not of con!
We fight 'til free! We fight 'til gone!
Free at last from master and man,
Let's now develop dream and plan!
Life will be better than when Jones ran.
Each do what he must! Each do what he can!
Let us build ourselves now a great mill
In the long pasture, on top of the hill
To cut grain and much more, to heat winter's chill
Oh what a joy! Oh, what a thrill!
No, let us not, this mill is folly.
Are we not already sufficiently jolly?
To even suggest it! Its idea to volley!
What thinks the cat? What, then, thinks Mollie?

We will work toward this goal,
Every calf and every foal.
Bright was the day when Jones's role
Was overthrown, taken in whole!
(Nine dogs enter and soon chase out
Him whose speech had won the bout.
Off the farm, with fearful shout,
Snowball leaves, and enters doubt.)
I told you not to take his word,
Told you his notion was absurd.
And now that we've the traitor cured,
I shall now lead (dogs' growls are heard).





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