The Last Revenge. Poem by Ray Moore

Family now that life has left me
And l lie amid the clay,
Cold the comfort that surrounds me
And these black crows, here to pray.

Oh cruel wife who strayed too often
Mean of mouth and roving eye,
Thou hast made of me a cuckold
You'll find justice bye and bye.

Elder son who drinks and gambles
With his dream of better things'
He shall find the post he's seeking
Has been taken up by Kings.

And the younger stands in boredom
Sly of mind with shifty eye'
As he measures up my chattels
He too, does his best to cry.

There my daughter, face in darkness
Sister too, and both wear veils,
Should you think tears might betray them
Cold of heart, and hard as nails.

See you standing in your coldness
Coldness not bought down by fog'
Had l craved a truer mourner
l would beg you bring my dog.

Leave you all, and take your pretence
Cease the false tears meant for me,
In your journey, think on this then
l have spent your legacies.