The Mad Man of France

narrative poem about the mad man of france

O mine heart weepeth and wain

For man o mad do or disdain

O and yay Peter beeth his name

Yet of his legend stayeth the same

For any man fallen insane

 

And god doth cry

For that which named be not

Head of city long forgot

 

Once t’was prosperous the land

Of whence Peter hath come

Wicked deeds playeth for fun

Toiling hatred nay undone

 

Horrid acts shan’t I account

Tis nigh a bare amount

Cathedrals burneth earth bound

Grotesque bodies deathly found

Ah! The streets of France so profound

 

The scent of mad the air is in

Fear doth we the devil’s grin

Runneth he t’where it not

We knoweth of or that we forgot

Find him we may… oneth be the day

Reviews

[eglantine]

props for writing in the voice you did! I randomly talk using 'doth' and adding 'eth' to the end of words so I loved this lol