no certain harbour

a mention of this is enough to frighten
the bravest warrior into greater speed
the pile of words never seems to lighten
we read and think and stop again to read
words that no longer cheer and brighten
thoughts that can satisfy no human need
the beacon's lit and war is on the way
but we don't pause just to enjoy the day

the moral of each tale we must belabour
there's never enough reason for our lies
the food we eat has never had a savour
the dunghill is replete with hungry flies
the nobleman must bear a foil or sabre
and fuss about with foolish silken ties
priests who command a weary folk to pray
aren't ready for the ones who simply slay