I am to be hanged outside the Tholsel
Judged drunk disorderly
Last meal no lasagna
Not a sausage sandwich
Me thinker ordered lozenges
No chance the rope spares the tonsils
A royal pain in my asshole
I have befriended the orderlies
Sean, Neil and Sandra
We speak twilight language
Good hosts to good hostage
No chance my death will haunt them
But I’ll haunt the castle.
Alchemisland 
Leave a comment