World be damned
I had him in the palm of my hand!
I tried too hard
this quill of a bard.
I confessed my love for him
only to be condemned;
He pushed and I pulled.
He acts ashamed
but his ladyship is to blame
They look down from on high with accusatory eyes
on peasants they truly despise.
Tattered and battered was how he found me
why’d he stop for me on one bended knee?
Prince Brentborne, did he come searching for a mistress
parading his high land and blood borne crest?
Nay, he said I was different, I had light on the inside
and here I should abide
careful not to let the Sheba’s of his world blot my sun
but I was on the run.
I confessed my love for him in the high court
this mission I should abort but neither am I the sort
to scurry away,
so to this day.
I stand feeling bladed glances and the lash of tongues
How could someone of low rung
dare soil His and Her Majesty’s son’s name?
Had she no brain?
Or give a care for her life?
There she plunged a knife
in the heart of high society, twist and grinded it against the vessel of life
Of their faux system.
Brentborne’s standing on the balcony smiling in approval
as Her Highness screams for my removal
At first it was off with my head
but repugnance was led.
By Her Highness’ son
Oh how he was outdone!
When he found out about the trickery
and as punishment to royalty, he asked to marry me!
Whether they agreed or not
I was one of his lot
Bearing him a son
and now I call my work done!