#1
When I was a young man
There was another younger lad,
He says strait and proud,
"One day I will sit crowned!"

He packed his bags
And set for London in rags.
Ready for whats ahead
And for a nice warm bed.

In London there was no warm roof,
Nor gold was is proof <--Could use a better word choice
'Till a landlady he had found,
A contract they now bound.

Now this lad had a cat
From the landlady, Ms. Patt,
"Now" I say "I will trade treasures for gold",
But the cat is all he had to bestow.

So I sailed to foriegn land
With this lad's cat in hand.
This young boy was left all alone,
All the way back home.

When trading to the king
Of everything I did bring,
He wished ony for this cat,
For this country was plegued by rats.

For all of his gold and trinkets,
The amount not seen so frequent. <--Could use better words.
All for the cat of this lad,
The only possesion he had.

Now I sailed on home,
To this fine lad's humble abode.
To hand him all of this gold,
And the story I have told.

This young man latter became
King off the gold he made,
And when with years crowned
He sits on homeward bound.

For now upon the kindness
Of the landlady mistress,
Queen he made her now,
As he sits on homeward bound.

This story is the story of a lad,
From rags to king of the land.
Then home again to sing,
A story for his childeren to bring.


Latter I will add in some more verses about how the cook he lived with used to beat him and how after becoming king he summoned the cook
to his manor and slaved her for all of the beatings she did unto him.
Then after that even he made her, after the landlady queen, the richest of the land.
He also was told in the beginning that the streets of London were paved with gold and during the winter the roofs were so hot that you could
Lay on them and never feel cold, so that explains why the roof were warm in the poem.
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#2
I thought it was MCR when I read the first line, sounds more like a poem to me than a song.
lp345: It's a virus
rage6945: i went on a little bit torrent spree and got Jay-z's black album
nebno6:Maybe it's god punishing you for having a bad music taste.
nowa90:UGNED!!
#3
As far as the words you were uncertain about, just put a word in there that would work if you weren't worried about flow or rhyme, those aren't always necessary, but a word that fits the piece just right is.
I thought it was a good read, but you're still showing room for improvement. Practice a few small poems about unimportant things. Make them seem important, and work up some of that talent you're showing off here
#4
When I first sailed to this land
I met a fine young lad,
He would always sing
"One day I will be king!"

For the bards there did sing
A warm roof for sitting
So to never go cold
And the streets paved with gold!

He packed his bags
And set for London in rags
Ready for whats ahead
And for a nice warm bed.

In London no warm roof
Nor any gold in proof.
'Till a landlady he'd found
A contract they had bowned.

In her home he did stay
"In my kithcen you'll work" she'd say
"To make the the dinners."
For now no one was kinder.

But in the kitchen was a cook
And she was a crook.
She would beat him night and day
To this boy's dismay.

Later he bought a cat
With what money he had.
A friend he'd become
In his little home.

Now as I sailed to this land
To the landlady for trade
Now I say I will trade out
From everyone in the house.

Now everyone had something to give
But this young lad had nothing to relieve.
"But the cat" landlady said to him
"For" she said "It's something to give."

So as I sailed to foriegn land
With this lads cat in hand
This young lad was left home
By himself all alone.

When trading to the king
Of everything I did bring
He wished only for the cat
For this country was plegued be rats.

I traded for all of his gold
Enough to fill my load.
All for the cat of this lad,
The only possision he had.

Now I sailed back home
To this fine lad's humble abode
To hand him all of his gold
With the story I have told.

This young man latter became
King off the gold he made,
And when with years crowned
He sits on homeward bound.

For now upon the kindness
Of the landlady mistress,
Queen he made her now,
As he sits on homeward bound.

This story is the story of a lad,
From rags to king of the land.
Then home again to sing,
A story for his childeren to bring.

I hope this sound any better. Please don't be afraid to say
Anything about this poem.
This poem is suppose to be an epic poem like the Illiad but it was to be sang
With a longer song like the full Scarborough Fair.
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I am the 24 Wild Rovers
If You Wish to Give C4C Click on the Smlileys
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