The Master

“Master, master, please no, no!” Said the slave as she pleaded for her life. The other slaves looked on as she was beat, They all thought, “What a feat!” “How could he beat such a sweet little girl?” Then the master gave the whip a swirl, And with one last scream the girl went limp. “Obey me you disgusting imps!” While the slaves were out working that same day Some of them began to say “He’s out of control.” “He needs to die.” And the women would say with a sigh, “What can we do? He holds the whip!” Then one slave had an idea and began to slip Cautiously in to the barn where the scythes were stored, He gathered them up and made his exit swift. Distributing them to all the men, this lift In spirits was refreshing. Silently they headed towards the house where their master slept. Quietly they followed the sound of his snoring and crept Into their master’s room, and surrounded his bed. Then with a great shout the scythes came down, They came down again and again. And when there was nothing left of him, One slave said, “The devil is dead!”