Written by an American
“The Haunting of Ol’ Thom Paine”
On these dark autumn nights,
when the Oktober sky breathes cool,
trees loose leaves like ladies let down their hair,
It’s said you can hear screams of Tories,
and if you listen close, but not too close, to hear,
the clop of old Thom Paine’s bones echoing in the air,
Never resting, a skeleton in quest of his skull,
dug up by William Cobbett, forever cursed,
haunting to take his rightful share…
©2015
Warrior Poet Seer 