Sevastapol

Sevastapol

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Friday February 28, 2014 @ 3:45 PM

An empire's poor amid a land the cossacks

Raged the steppes of her Muscovite fields

As tsars and czarinas sought southward a

Grab as the Winter Palace cast St. Peter's

Blizzard south to Crimea's Sevastapol, and

How the blood which spilled! Conscripted

Serfdom bled on the fields and died, and

How the English and French crashed there

And the Nightingale fluttered freely away,

And this is said - but I'll confess as it seems

As history never forewarns of a peace lost

Due to time's burrowing lessons failed in

Tests, and the people just cry how there'll

Be no gas left for them to pay as they whine

While Tartars wail amid pain as the wrath

Of the Kremlin's sickled past meets present

As it hammers their hearts while pummeling

Their prayers to the tricolor raised in war.

Terrible kills the son of the nation, a Great

Lashes the heir to St. Peter in the sky as he

Left his father's side in the city built upon

A wintery marsh, its blanket of snow, and

How the Holstein princess retracted land

Of her Turkish foes amid tradition's very

Battleground, how Sevastapol has fallen a

Great many times, and now she's in deep

Amid despair, troops snipping wings upon

The flight of a people's sovereignty amid

A nasty day, the Black Sea as eight score's

Tale resides within today's darkest times.