The Flogging
by Peter Loaf

Ladies in coffle, led to the square
Justice in tatters, nubile and fair
King in his castle, the spider’s lair
Ladies in waiting, sobbing despair

Lady Jane Adams, ringleader first
Hobbled and knobbled, ready for worst
The chain connecting, seven girls cursed
The blacksmith’s shackles, never will burst

Chained to her collar, behind her back
Hands high and useless, tough keeping track
Cornered then taken, head in a sack
Tried and convicted, alas and alack

Justice is given, King’s divine right
Raging suspicion, sweating at night
By terror ruling, bloody King’s might
Ladies in coffle, shiver in fright

The flogging platform, inverted cross
Hard used and helpless, Lady Beth Ross
Goes to the gallows, knowing who’s boss
King and his Princeling, and brother Hoss

Stripped of her clothing, blushing and pink
Spread-legged and naked, her rising stink
Swelling and open, pussy lips fink
The gallows displaying, her every kink

Whipping beginning, the blacksnake bites
Standing in coffle, each woman fights
The fear in her bowels, the Royal rights
The Rat they’re trapping, ending the nights

Public appearance, ever so rare
Has to be careful, has to take care
The King out of castle, and with his heir
The chance worth taking, killing the pair

The guardsmen selected, trusted and true
Lady Jane Adams, one of the few
Plotters in castle, taking their cue
Crossbows at ready, the coming coup

With arrows studded, the dying cries
Both King and Princeling, the people rise
Cornered and captured, Brother Hoss dies
The rising over, the taken prize

Rescued from scaffold, welted and sore
Shelter is given, the beaten whore
Her passion raging, wet to the core
The trap for baiting, her little chore