The Black Eagle's Song
Tension lies thick in the air,
though the players don't quite seem to care.
The chick of the Eagle
lies dead, cold, and regal,
and the mourners all shout 'gainst the Bear.
The Black Eagle poked the Bear sleeping,
a Bear not content with its keeping.
Roused and awake,
plans it did make,
of some sport that they called Eagle-Reaping.
The Black Eagle looked and it eyed
its foes around every last side.
The Lion at sea,
the Bear bourgeois,
it swooped at the Rooster, Bear's ally.
What ensued would be best called a cockfight,
a battle to see who would be right.
A fight between birds,
fitted with spurs,
but these spurs, they were new and could bite.
The Lion was grazed by the Eagle,
in an action that was quite illegal.
The Lion marched forth
from its island up north
to war stripped of everything regal.
The war, it continued this way,
for years, several months, and a day.
The Bear was Red, bloodied,
the Rooster, quite sullied,
The Lion and Eagle, filleted.
But then from the west came another,
who considered the Lion a brother.
A ship of his, sank,
the preceding, rank.
An Eagle to fight 'gainst the other.
The White Eagle linked with its peers
and fought for not even two years.
A treaty was forged,
rose Black Eagle's gorge
and set up some painful arrears.
And there lies the Black Eagle's Song,
in lim'rick, some nine stanzas long.
How treaty and fear,
and secrets quite dear,
made the world wonder what had gone wrong.