A Hero’s Death
(response to Jabberwocky
By: Lewis Carroll)
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
The slayer galumphed through the woods
With the Jabberwock head on his belt
He spotted another, bigger than he
And then he gave out a shout.
He drew his blade and ran onward
A battlecry on his lips
But to this day, nobody knows
If his sword ever hit.
A ripping noise and then a tear
The blade dropped to the ground
The mysterious creature galumphed away
And the hero dropped to the dirt.
“Oh woe is me!” The hero cried
And dragged himself to a tree
He lay back and began to think
About how much less mighty was he.
Then he was found, amidst the swamps
His father fell and he wept
His son, dead, but then he thought
Well maybe, not all the way.
He took his flask and to his lips,
He put it, prayers flowing from his mouth
The hero wakes and his father cries
“O frabjous day is this!”
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
