Moi Et Ma Bouche Grande. Poem by Dan Reynolds

Moi et ma bouche grande.

The guillotine had earned its keep
Splitting necks both shallow and deep
The countless heads of headless Counts
In fly-crusted piles would soon surmount
So many wrongs to be undone
Though when did revenge become such fun.

Till to the blade stepped Jean De Vere
No aristocrat he, but an engineer.
No shred of courage did he lack,
"Let me face the cutter, upon my back.
I'll go to God, with grace and all.
As I look to the sky, and see the blade fall"

That day, his God had brought him luck.
Three times it fell, three times it stuck
The law said, the maximum drops were four,
He would be a free man, if it stuck just once more.
But Jean was a shrewd man, and knew it would not fail,
When he looked up and warned them, "It's catching on that nail! "