I lay beneath a parking lot,
at peace with Men and God,
when--au secours! My peace was shot
with strife sown in the sod!
Some eager academic beaver
crowned her bleakest feat.
(Though she 'll never find the cleaver
that sliced me princely meat.)
We dead are not such greedy folk.
Is it so much to ask?
To let us lie--it's not a joke!
at this most rotten task.
I heard the bones of monarchs shudder
good kings and princes all.
"They've carboned Richard!" I heard them utter,
to feed some newsy scrawl.
This seems too slight so I did a second.
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