Friar John Goodman

This is a tale of days gone by,
a tale of feelings growing dry.
A man named Goodman came to town.
Though good at heart, he wore a frown.

Now Goodman was a merry friar
but some would state he was a liar
who didn´t even think God´s real;
towards the cross he wouldn´t kneel.

What came of Goodman you may wonder?
Take heed and listen; take time to ponder:
His dark, defeating descent would grow
as once in winter there was snow.

John Goodman didn’t hate the cold,
However his dog was just too bold.
A mean, young child came, full of hate,
and went to Goodman´s dog, who´s fate

Now lay in death; the dog had died,
so now John Goodman looked and cried:
You´ll pay, my boy, as will all others
I´ll kill your people and their brothers.

The friar worked as he had said,
and felt no pity, he had no dread.
of course he then was caught and made
to think of God before the blade

would come and cut, nay, crush the crook.
And in the end they wrote a book
as to remind the crowds in time
of friar Goodman and his crime.