French Revolution Poems

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MOI ET MA BOUCHE GRANDE
The guillotine had earned its keep
Splitting necks both shallow and deep
The countless heads of headless Counts
In fly-crusted piles would soon surmount
So many wrongs to be undone
Though when did revenge become such fun.

Till to the blade stepped Jean De Vere
No aristocrat he, but an engineer.
No shred of courage did he lack,
“Let me face the cutter, upon my back.
I’ll go to God, with grace and all.
As I look to the sky, and see the blade fall”

That day, his God had brought him luck.
Three times it fell, three times it stuck
The law said, the maximum drops were four,
He would be a free man, if it stuck just once more.
But Jean was a shrewd man. Knew it would not fail,
When he looked up and warned them, “It’s catching on that nail!”

WAR FOR THE POOR
With the war side by side,
We people still strive.
We want our independence.
We need our freedom.
We want free tax structure,
Or at least get rid of this inferior social status.

Give us education,
'cause if you won't we'll rebel.
We might be illiterate
And lack mental strength,
But when we'll be ourselves
Show what we are.
You’ll run away from our nation,
This country with all these injustices that we still love.

Rich becoming richer.
Poor poorer.
Reduce taxes or omit them.
If that's still on,
Then be it fair.

Rich are respected.
Poor are hurt.
We also have feelings and emotions.
And a small heart
That doesn't understand discrimination,
Or inferior social status.
JOINING OF BROTHERS
Poverty reigns
Monarchy feigns
The poor are real patriots
Nobles mere nationalists

They fight for France still
In favor or against their will
Nobles hoard; consumed be greed
Ignorant of or ignoring real need

The poor feed the rich’s mouths
The rich starve the poor out of house
Peasants work longer than the sun, breaking their backs
The crown complacently laughs, as he raises the tax

A father cries for his family, his son
Ashamed he can’t...
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