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Click here"It wasn't like this at Sennacherib"
(with apologies to Lord Byron)
Their Mistress came down like a wolf on the fold,
Like a Goddess she shone in black leather and gold,
With the crack of her whip men would kneel or would flee
As she captured and twisted the minds of the Free.
Like a whirlwind she filled all around her with dread
Like a plague she invaded each heart and each head
With a single command she exerted her power
As she grasped at their souls men would yield and cower.
Like an Angel of Dominance, her rage like a blast
She breathed power in the face of each man as she passed.
When the eyes of that victim went glassy and dim
Then she knew her control was complete over him.
So they lay in submission, her slaves one and all,
Every man at her feet, on her bed, at her call,
Every spirit was broken, just toys at her whim,
Every body was hers, every face, every limb.
Then she turned on her heel; she looked down on the scene;
She saw nothing remained of Free Will that had been.
Her destruction complete she strode swiftly away,
One more conquest was hers, now she sought other prey.
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,000 poems.
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Byron will be spinning in his grave.
The best parody of a great poem I have read for a long time, and a great poem in its own right.
More, please.
Very good, but I wonder how Lord Byron would respond to this variation to The Destruction of Sennacherib? And thanks for the hint - I'd have gone nuts trying to place this from a certain vague feel I'd heard this pattern before.