And all he could do was spit at me

Constancy and endurance
My life spent in the field
My unflagging efforts
Just trying to build
Muscle and brawn and strength
For to try
And live out my life
Under the sky

Fortitude that was
the name of the game
Gutsy and plucky
undaunted by name
To never give up hope
To fight for the breath
To hammer away
And to put aside death

In the ring of the dead
Where the bold matador
Dressed in his satins
Wants to see more
Of me being dragged
Out stabbed through the heart
And like some dainty prig
He pushing the cart

So I am finished
so many swords
Thrust into me
From the cowardly hordes
So tortured I be
They Pushed the chilli’s
into my eyes
Filed down my horns
For they were the guys

Seen to have valour
Seen to be brave
Torturing bulls
Life clearly grave
Rupturing blood vessels
Causing such pain
Such spineless creeps
Again and again

And as I recoil
And feel sick in my soul
One clears his throat
And gobs, its his role
Such contempt such disdain
Such a lofty refrain
A curl of his lip
A gift for my trip

Spat on despicable object he be
With Such a lowering opinion
of me
Mocks me rides roughshod over my soul
But in hell when he gets there
I’m in control
Hathor will reward this gob spitting lout
With a horn up his arse
And he will know about

The pain he caused me
And the utter disdain
The rest will be history

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