Gabrielle Walters

Mrs. Opgenorth

3rd hour Creative Writing

January 11, 2012

Ballad

Long Ago

From a distant, far land,

A very long time ago.

A story is to be spanned,

A story hard to undergo.

This story about a boy,

Who had a kind soul,

Whose name was Troy.

As he went for a stroll,

What Troy did see,

For nobody knows.

What Troy was to be,

Here our story goes.

As the young lad walked,

Happily going to and fro,

His time was stalked,

Being followed by a foe.

The foe was the fearful death,

Something Troy despised.

Troy would have his last breath,

As true death was disguised.

Troy still walked on,

Unknowingly what was to be.

He walked by a lovely swan,

And walked past the sea.

He walked until dawn,

As he reached his home.

Entering with a yawn,

There was a light of chrome.

The light, you see,

Belonged to the Lord.

Troy was taken to thee,

And it just had to be.

Troy had the Black Plague,

A disease looked down upon.

That was still very vague,

A disease that continued on.

It was Troy's time,

Like the other people.

A man of a young prime,

Still the bells rang in the steeple.