The Torturous Taxman Poem by James Irwin

From below the shadows...of the masked man...they said,
let him hang high...and then chop of his head.

For we know...not what he`s done,
but his killing brings fame...his misery scares...and equals a fine ransom.

Hellish be the justice given,
as our stakes of evil...are slowly driven.

Through the flesh of another innocent,
justice thought...in the theater of contentment.

For his Majesty...the Tax collector.