It Swore Blue Blood

The jagged knife swore he had seen blue blood

The man with the thrust swore he had seen the eyes turn blood red

The bag of silver dropped clean to the ground and the gang slipped every penny

To pocket till the word was spread

The inn’s chef faked a rush at them, rusty cleaver overhead

The man died in silence

Mouth abubble with thick red juice

His son showed the next day

Funeral cart oxen towed

The crops grew well where they buried him

The wooden tombstone took to rot

The thieve’s bellies ran full with wine

And every eye in the village bore grief


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