Oh, Dougan, Dougan,
Life or bust
We of the Eire are no blusing flower
We knew you’d skim money in the first hour.
SO WHY DIDN’T YOU, YOU BIG GALUMPH?
What shall WE tell HER? “Sorry, Widow,
For once our king has the morals of a kiddo
He refused to drink or pick your son’s pockets
Now all you’ve left of your son are brassy lockets
(He pawed the gold, as one would expect.
But hording it, he neglect
I’d love to say,”Ah, Hell, who cares…”
…But he put it all to some repairs.)
Written by:Jeff Mach
Jeff Mach is an author, playwright, event creator, and certified Villain. He'd love for you to check out patreon.com/jeffmach for his favorite work (it's almost all free!) He's currently working on the Great Catskills Halloween Vendor Market and The Big Dark Lord Dwarf Novel. You can get his last novel, "I HATE YOUR Prophecy", or his increasingly large selection of other peculiar books of shortt fiction. If you'd like to talk more to Jeff, or if you're simply a Monstrous Creature yourself, stop by @darklordjournal on X or The Dark Lord Journal on Facebook.
Comments are closed.