They hung Angus Mac in the town square this morning.

  His shouts had been heard since midnight, “Oh my brothers,

  heed not what the imaginary gods are saying!

  Them and their prophets want nothing but to smother

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Themselves in the fools gold you give up!

  “The peaceful meadow you are all waiting for,

  The endless bliss of a woman’s touch and summer sun,

  These lies have been wrought and twisted to blind your

  Judgement of truth! Look for no God, for there is none!

  “For is there not a kind of beauty in death?”

  They hung Angus Mac in the town square this morning.

  His body now swings in the cool breeze,

  Casting deathly shadows on the roofs and awnings,

  And left to rot on the old Yew tree.