On the way to the capital

Eight travelers embarked their journey in a wagon,
Seven conspired, and one was a peeping tom.
They never imagined, what a disgrace it wrought,
Imagine their looks when their train its tracks fought.

Seven travelers resulted unscathed from the hitch,
One of them, the sod had gone through a stitch.
They looked and searched, but their effort was in vain,
For the sod, though a window was expelled from the train.

Seven travelers kept following their trail,
Unaware that fate had plotted them to fail.
Walking through the snow, cold, white and plain,
One tripped a trap, binding his leg to a flimsy steel chain.

They pulled and yanked, his limbs nearly torn,
For all their attempts, the steel wasn’t worn.
Six travelers had to leave him behind,
Hearing some howling, hopefully a trick of his mind.

Six travelers, now without a guide,
Decided to leave now, the train tracks aside.
They reached and stopped then, at Old Klein’s place,
He lived a cook, loved to shoot, and liked to practice on his fence.

Of this, they did not know, and so started to wave “Hi!”
And the shooters, drunk, started to shoot them “Bye-Bye!”
Targets marked, bullets sparked, and most of them missed,
All but one, out of luck, had one heart pierced.

Five travelers then ran for their lives,
They shook, they shrieked; their screams tore the skies.
One of them had spotted a cave; he blessed his luck, and then went in right on;
He entered and hid, sitting there like a duck; only to realize, he wasn’t alone.

And so, right then, the other travelers could hear
Barking, howling, and some yowls of fear.
Worried for him, they followed the noises;
Only to find that wolves tore him to pieces.

Four travelers then stubbornly kept going,
For a fault in morale their goal would be undoing.
They would not stop, until the road they reached,
Where they could travel safe, a hope not yet beached.

Four travelers finally reached the broad asphalt trail,
Praying for no more reason to make them wail.
One of them stumbled too far into the road,
Just in time to be hit by a passing wide-load.

Three travelers then saw astonished, their very own friend was torn asunder;
Missing voices and a splash of scalding red; but even then they did not even blunder.
Straying afar from the treacherous road, they followed a path into a nearby old lodge;
Cozy and inviting, it was tempting to stay; too bad that highwaymen thought the same way.

They were few, they were angry, and they were light armed;
They were less, they were tired, and so the fight started.
Knuckles-bare, kicking at first; they were in luck, thieves only gloat.
Pulling a knife, one clenched his fist; he would trip on a rock and pierce a traveler’s throat.

Two travelers had won in the end;
They lost just one hand, the bandits lost ten.
They resumed through the backdoor dirt track,
Trying to forget they were now short of a pack.

Two travelers had gone through the trail,
They had come now this far, they could not fail.
At the end of the road, there were bright lights;
So close to their goal, they pushed on with all their might.

Nearing the journey’s end, one of them had just flinched
His face was now red and his breath had him winced.
He coughed non-stop, as he was sick to a fault,
This journey would be his last, there was no doubt.

Reaching the town was his only desire,
But one step more would put out his fire.
Face full of red and body a yellow pale;
This traveler has seen the end of his tale.

One lone traveler at the town had arrived;
Worn out and lonely, but he was still alive.
The ordeal was over, now was time to rest;
So he sat down in a balcony’s nest.

A lovely spot with a nice town overview,
Sights high and breath-taking, his home had very few.
A bright full moon over busy night lights,
Indeed, getting here was worth the plight.

Next to the lookout, two stories below,
He caught a glimpse of an open window.
On a first glance, the home was very charming;
But even more so, when he saw a lady changing.

Enticed by the scene, he came forward;
Not seeing the danger he walked towards.
As he watched the scene, he leaned on a rail; unwise that the support was short of a nail.
The structure collapsed under the stress; pushing him off, creating a mess.


On the floor below, under the cliff,
There lay his body, broken and stiff.
Felled from the siren he intended spying on,
Well, that’s what you get for being a peeping tom.