A.K.A. John Johnson

A reddish-brown mane
Hid a sly face from the world
That moved silently beneath the city
Exploring her belly from within
In cross-country renditions of ancient superstitions
An unlucky army banded together
Seizing the Duck and Drake
As an opportunity for improvement
Cunning lies brought the expedition full circle
Where an alias stacked inconspicuous piles
Of black dirt and dried twigs
To hide an even more impressive bounty
Destined by the word of God
To recreate a cycle in his own fashion
The plague stalled the plans
Long enough to be discovered
And reiterated in a more humane fashion
In the form of gallows
Dismemberment and emasculation
Wild animals will not go willingly
Unless by their own hands
And so the end came in a quick snap
Self propelled through the air
To swing before the masses
Until the body parts could be removed
And set up as sentinels
All along the kingdom's border
A life eternal, remembered in effigies
That burn bright
Throughout each Fifth November night