Before i take you through the poem, i must brief you about the context: It's narrated by the voice of the Devil himself, as he describes a task contestants ought to take, that essentially involves a duel, with one killing the other, and if a pair still survives, both'd be given a one way ticket to hell. My idea is to exaggerate on Tavernly duels (Like in Eastwood films) and what if they became so mundane, that they become like contests and even to the horrific extent of becoming a sport, like in the old gladiator days! People laugh at one killing the other, clapping hands, and that's my fantasy world it occurs in...
THE WORDS OF THE DEVIL
Lewds gathered, may you all snoop,
For now you’re part of my own boorish coupe;
One of a Dozen is what you’re given
To do what you want, what you’ve striven
For. Five’s all what you’ve got to natter,
No shelling in that, not even a clatter.
Vocal is what’s assigned to you
In that, and that’s what you ought to do,
For rules are meant for you to follow
Even if my call sounds a bit too hollow,
You got to do it, you have no choice;
Contempt’s condemned here, especially of my voice.
So you decide in the five, to live or to let live
As both is impracticable for me to give;
Neither, is a very coaxing choice for me;
And if you both fail, I shalt do it with glee.
So buck up, get your substance flowing,
‘Cause losers get my call, and winners get going…