I cannot predict What will happen to the save haven. A few good men defend the rival of Gloucester. But many fail and revel in the tower. It was the fate of poor and rich, the princes and thieves, political murder the culprit indeed.
What sits in this place but a lone wandering eye? Is it forlorn from the gold calling pipes that rest with Danny Boy. What sits here but a wilting rose and purple lily and lotus? Do call on the nerves to stand upon this wicked Bosworth and be still with courage and honor. Put yourContinue reading “Cry Lies on this Wicked Charge”