Honor Among Scamps

We are the smirched. Queen Honor is the spotless.

We slept thro’ wars where Honor could not sleep.

We were faint-hearted. Honor was full-valiant.

We kept a silence Honor could not keep.

Yet this late day we make a song to praise her.

We, codeless, will yet vindicate her code.

She who was mighty, walks with us, the beggars.

The merchants drive her out upon the road.

She makes a throne of sod beside our campfire.

We give the maiden-queen our rags and tears.

A battered, rascal guard have rallied round her,

To keep her safe until the better years.