(Teaser from a play in progress)
Softly now the dawn does break
And I do smell change upon the wind.
Change. Yes, change is what I seek
For the betterment of my kind.
For many years have we sweated and toiled
To make this hovel our own abode.
Yet now, when trade is at its best
The king dares to tax our gold!
It was we, not he, that made this town
The trading center it is today!
Yet that royal whelp wants us, for
His own dear pleasures, to pay!
We, the artisans, took the lead
And by trick or trade, sword or pact,
We gave the peons democracy, and for
Their own good, ensured the ballot box was packed.
And see what we have done for them:
We built the economy, strengthened the walls,
All without that stripling's aid who
Now wants to be, for our own services, paid!
Yet through it all we kept the peace,
Saying naught a thing to our dear 'friend'.
But now has come my patience's decrease;
This buffoon's reign must come to an end!
Alicat the persnikitty
*Due to the enormous response this received in Open1, I felt compelled to re-post it*
Le Jongleur Aspirante