Worms of the Earth

My father worked on the land, as did his father before him,
Plowing and sowing by hand, and harvesting what the land bore him.
He was killed by the robbers before I was ten;
One stroke of the sword and then they were gone
While our Lord strutted bravely on top his tall walls,
And did nothing to hinder the slaughter.

Our Lord rode away to the wars, mounted on top of old stallion,
To fight for some noble cause,
With his knights and his henchmen to guard him.
Then we heard that they captured both he and his men,
And for that, they raised our taxes again,
For to pay the great ransom in gold and in gems,
To get our Lord back to rule us.

This year, there was a great drought; our crops were burnt in the ground.
Not that our Lord did without, for his men took all that they found.
Then our Lord came among us with some of his men,
To announce that the taxes were raised yet again,
So a few of us acted on our desperate plan;
Now his body is meat for the crows.

Into the fire we stare, behind our poor barricade.
Too tired to feel the despair, knowing no one will come to our aid.
For when the sun rises, the knights all around
They will gather in force and they'll hunt us all down,
And they'll mount our heads proudly on pikes in the town,
And our final tax will be paid.

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