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The Pilgarlic Man

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The pilgarlic man who walked with pride,

gave a small smile to all who pried.

The man who came from poor,

small gifts he now pleased to pour.

From drinking ale,

to being ail.

His brain once awed,

now thought of as odd.

He was not to be thought of as better,

but one who was a bettor.

The End
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Chobattoir You're currently reading the poem The Pilgarlic Man, which was posted on Jun 12, 2010 by Chobattoir.

This is a solo poem.

About this poem

"A boy who grew up poor and took anything given to him. As he ages, he soon turns..."

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Word Play

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