The Smiling Rope

"well-spun twine, with deeds to cope,/Hung way up high" - a rhyming poem

Once, there was some smiling rope,
Waiting for despondent folk,
This well-spun twine, with deeds to cope,
Hung way up high, its cause to choke...

No glory for our doomed go-getter,
A victim of such gloomy weather;
The task complete, his luck no better,
Both feet released, now strung to tether…

With hands bound tight and noose secured,
They punish with one fatal call,
The hangman’s won – ill fate’s endured,
A hand at justice, for one and all.