The Battle of Verse

The sun is gone and night has come,

For many a soul tis time for rest. 

 

Not quite so for our Queen of verse,

Oh not so for our Lady of prose.

 

Maps all laid upon the table,

Studied over and over with her men of voice.

 

Paths crossed once and crossed anew,

Ravines scoured with poring eyes.

 

This all done to route out traps,

Set by the enemy to bring us down.

 

The body and mind scream for rest

The leader of the troupe must remain alert.

 

I will sing a song to cheer you on,

I will whistle a tune to keep you alert.

 

We will prepare the victory trumpets,

We will prime the trombone of success.

 

Our Lady of verse is leading battle,

Our victory from prose is coming home.

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