The Music Man It was upon that frozen morn, The Music Man came to play. A man filled with contempt and scorn, For all the humans he surveyed. His mysterious rhythm and rhyme, Gathered an enthralled throng. Tapping his feet and keeping in time, He let out the hypnotising song. The young would see his mask of glee, Dancing around the place. He packed away and took his fee, Losing grace from upon his face. To a bitter night, he would often stay, At the inn with a girl paid to hear, The moans and whines, and insidious vines Of his disgusted and ghastly sneer. It was upon that frosted night, The Music Man played no more. His heart, so rotten and filled with spite, Abandoned him on the floor.
Gefällt mir
Kommentar
Teilen
