King in RagsA Story by Trent FilesCantebury TailThe
King in Rags: Prologue There
is a king in rags So
rich in coin how his purse sags Garbed
in beggar’s clothes was he And
given the appearance of being dirty But
when coming to challenge of sleight of hand He
would rob you of all from where you stand His
stature is of average size But
what is unique is his eyes They
wander about searching for full pockets To
pick as well as shiny golden lockets There
was no lock he couldn’t undo And
not a safe he couldn’t break into By
day he begged from street to street By
night he stole and ran with foot so fleet Cloaked
in darkness and robes of black There
is no skill of subtly for him to lack The
king of shadow and sneak This
story tells of how he fell from his peak Beaten
at a game he played best His
crown now placed upon his chest Taken
from his head He
lies all but dead…. The
King in Rags: Once
in a time when snow fell not upon the land And
yet summer was not yet at hand In
the month of March and its Ides When
the peasants tended the rustic outsides And
merchants were left to rule the city wealth A
beggar lived in rags but remained in good health A
king was this man in rags His
eyes unlaiden by black bags The
king of thieves went on his merry way Of
begging in the streets by day For
at night he was to steal a statue And
it is just what he intended to do The
statue was resting in a chapel of saints But
was surrounded by drunks and daints When
dusk had reached the horizon line The
thief began his wait for the final sign Before
he made his way to the church And
readied for his comfortable perch Through
the second window Of
the third floor first row He
undid the latch and entered the threshold And
stared at the bounty now his to behold Quickly
he grabbed it and made his way back out Down
the street before any could even shout Out
from his coat pocket the statue gleamed Shining
golden in its holy ways it seemed On
the corner was a monk in robes and hood But
the King in rags couldn’t see where he stood The
monk spotted the stolen treasure Deciding
he would have it at any measure He
stalked the king in rags all the way to his hiding spot It
was an abandoned building in an empty lot He
waited for the master thief to leave that night And
he would steal it back before first light Why
not leave a humiliating note So
the monk wrote: “So
the King in Rags has lost his game His
prize stolen by a monk without a name Your
humiliation is my joy Run
along now foolish boy Leave
the jobs to the grown men I
shouldn’t want to have to do this again!” The
thief returned and found the message on the wall He
cursed and spurned it all He
had been beaten at his own game By
a monk without a name All
because of his arrogance His
prize stolen in his ignorance He
decided he would get his revenge on his enemy “Monk
I shall get you, wait and see!” He
ran to the church Once
again climbing his comfortable perch He
undid the second window On
the third floor first row When
he gained entrance he smiled ear to ear And
towards the statue he came so near Out
from the shadows came the monk in robes and hood And
many other angry priests now stood The
monk scorned the thief’s arrogant ways The
priests stepped forward at dawn’s first rays They
took him to the cross where he laid Upon
the crucifix till his debt was paid Revenge
is not the best tool It
will turn a king into a fool Ruin
follows all who go down this road It
leaves people in the dust to corrode No
good comes from this state of mind An
eye for an eye makes the world go blind! © 2013 Trent FilesAuthor's Note
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Added on April 10, 2013 Last Updated on April 10, 2013 AuthorTrent FilesFlethcer , OKAboutI like soccer I love heavy music that really can pump you up, like parkway drive. I love to write and most people say its dark and depressing but then again my life hasn't been a fountain of rainbows... more..Writing
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