(Poem) The Foe of the Black Rider

The Foe of the Black Rider

Black rider paused ‘midst dead soldiers amassed
His garb much tattered; his stallion diseased
“Generals first, then your women I’ll seize.”
A sergeant stepped forward, clearly outclassed
Worn from the battle, his energy passed
Stared down this demon, intent to displease
Skilled Hessen marksman with some expertise
Clutched his musket as his enemy sassed:
“Sent by the Gods, I’ll claim all of your lives
“He with the gun knows not what he trifles
“Stand fast, do let your sinning souls be claimed!”
Still, clever sergeants, know how to survive
Rounds of pure silver stuffed in their rifles
Said Lord’s Prayer, smiled, squinted, then aimed

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