Once upon a peaceless time, there lived a young girl, full of rhyme
When she heard quaint volumes of the forever loved folklore
Her mind would float in skies above, dreams of hope and endless love
One night as it soared like a dove--something entered her bedroom door
It was a foe from hells bound gate that came taunting and teasing late and
laughing at her bedroom door
Which heated her heart forevermore.
This distinctly's what she did remember on a cold, and bleak December:
It started with a tiny group going on a simple trip that enflamed into a big
Sadness struck the fantasy she had; vainly fate brought something sad
For her rare and radiant fantasy turned bad--it turned bad ever more
Her father, whom she so adored, had a thorn in his flesh ever more
The nameless thorn she called the man of war.
His health decreased, she became uncertain, feeling she'd an unworthy burden
She called out to the radiant sky, saying, "truly my forgiveness I implore."
"You man of war came while I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you were tapping--tapping at my father's door,
Scarcely was I sure I heard you as I opened my father's bedroom door,
and there stood darkness and nothing more."
Presently her soul grew stronger; hesitating there no longer
Thrilled and filled her with horrors she never felt before
So that now, to still the beating of her heart, she stood repeating
"This visitor entreated entrance at his bedroom door-
some late visitor entreating entrance at his bedroom door;-
This is it and nothing more.
Nights she layed in her bed turning, her gentle soul inside her burning
She'd read tales of angels in the saintly days of yore
Who'd cry out to God above, not a minute crying thereof
But this disease perched above her father's bedroom door
Screaming out into God's acre above his bedroom door
Screaming out there doing nothing more.
Into her father's room she crept, and there alone she sat and wept
She saw an image of his grave and the countenance it wore
The stone had almost reached the sky, and on it read "A good man here lye."
She looked ghastly on by and asked, "Father are you afraid of the man of
He turned and touched her cheek so gently, You say, man of war?"
Quote the Father, "Never more."
Much she marvelled her father sanely , to hear discourse so clear and
Though his answer short--a larger meaning did it bore
We cannot help in agreeing, how strong an attitude for a human being
Even though he was wearying with this disease perched above his door
This deadly and crude disease perched above his door
With such a name as "Man of War."
Then, she thought, the air grew denser, perfumed it seemed from unseen
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls touched gently on the floor
"My child," he said, "Dear God sent thee, from the angels is how he sent
I asked Him please to take it from me, but there it rests above my door,
He has told me it will stay in my flesh and above my door
And I will live with it forevermore."
"God, you say! This thing of evil, is not God but is the devil!
Whether Prophet God sent, or whether tempter tossed it here ashore,
Forget all that is undaunted, on this treacherous land enchanted
In this home of horror is haunted--tell me truly, I implore-
Is there--is there love for this disease? tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quote her father, "Nevermore."
And then her father lay in bed, he lay there dead, he lay there dead
On his pallid face there shown emotion never more
And his eyes have a way of seeming like they were afar and dreaming
And as the lamp oe'r him is streaming, it throws a shadow on the floor
And his soul from out that shadow lies there floating on the floor
And shall not be lifted, nevermore!
[This message has been edited by Blondie (edited 01-05-2000).]