The Last Gladiator

Alrite, let me explain. i did the first line of each stanza, Al did the second, TJ did the third. When we wrote this, i was laughing so hard that i was crying. hope you all like it.

The Last Gladiator
By Luke Beadle, Al Winters, and TJ Sealy

The wave rolls across the open plain,
The trees sway in the wind,
The whispers speaking in the rain.

One last call to the sky above,
The dissipating clouds bring a sign of love,
Like Vikings plundering all the gold

And a fragile chute springs to life,
Cuts through the earth like a knife
But picked by a midget full of strife

At long last, that Sunday morn’-
All are left full of scorn,
From listening to the pastor toot his horn

As the music starts to play,
And the cows nestle in the hay,
Mr. Monopoly says to pay

But on the sacred Day,
We must all bow and pray,
For we are all terribly gay.

As the world so drowns
All life frowns
We all hate clowns

When the Darkness is so sound,
And the sun continues to fall,
The end of this poem is worst of all.