100 Years Project Anthology
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On this sunny but cloudy morn<br />
There was a cacophony of noise;<br />
Screams, shouts and a French horn.<br />
The instrument was mocking,<br />
As it was regal, rich and pure.<br />
For once that sweet sound died out<br />
My own life would be gone, I’m sure.<br />
So, when I place my head<br />
Underneath the guillotine<br />
I brace myself for the worst.<br />
I could feel the pulse of their anger,<br />
And incurable hurt<br />
My death would quench their thirst.<br />
Monarchy was my destiny,<br />
I couldn’t have denied and ran<br />
Yet I will be honest in my final moments,<br />
For once being a true French man.
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