Ye Olde Rap

Blessed be the dew
on this cold graveyard ground,
as the wind plays it's tune
through willows, well-wound.
Washed down by the wishes
of the whisperless dead,
weighted with worry
whilst we water and wed.
Shine down, through this town,
rays of light upon demons.
Execute to render moot
the casters and heathens.
No better time to lie high
upon the grasses and gardens,
the hilltops, the straw mats
and the daughters they pardoned.

Draw well from your well
my sweet child in arms.
Sit not back, nor believe
in their voices and charms.
"On the stake will she burn?
count me one of the crowd!"
Lift your glass to the sound
of her innocence - proud.
Shall we not venture down
through an ominous forest;
picture one of us lost,
a cost of fearing the honest.
Has it never beckoned you
in the way we were threatened?
Left dependent on penance
through these laws and amendments.

These corrupted intentions:

"Can thou even hear us now?
Hast thee lost thy direction?
You're a drifter like the clouds,
have you no recollection?
Shun us not to the wolves
of your own vexed invention;
I pray thine eloquent stutter
bares you naught but deception!
'Tis a chilling inception!
Is this not all a laugh?
How thou takest what's ours
and blame faith for your farce?
Hast thou not even a soul,
nor a shred of one hidden
within that blackened mass of yours
betwixt the breast you were given?"

Find you not this funny?
I thought you would laugh!
Is this not what we do
in this fine place of ours?
Nestled neatly in robes
laced with silver brocade,
watching willingly on
whilst the plebeians fade.

Take no offense dear soul,
but by God, take heed!
Lest your dark-lit desires
douse your every good deed.