| The Prisoner | |
| 421 | A prisoner arrived one day |
| at Coffee County jail. | |
| The verdict was for ten to life | |
| without parole or bail. | |
| 425 | The first few months were difficult. |
| His cell mates often raged. | |
| The confines of his tiny space | |
| made him regret his cage. | |
| “There’s no escape,” that’s what they say, | |
| 430 | “These walls will suffocate. |
| Constricted, breathless you will be. | |
| Your life is confiscate.” | |
| Well, time went by, and life grew grim, | |
| then prisoner decides | |
| 435 | he won’t be trapped by these gray walls |
| until the day he dies. | |
| He steals a spoon from the canteen. | |
| At night he slowly digs. | |
| He scratches holes just barely deep. | |
| 440 | Each never gets too big. |
| He started on the far left wall, | |
| which juxtaposed outside, | |
| then switched his target to the back, | |
| which softer rock comprised. | |
| 445 | Some years go by; the walls expand |
| a little at a time. | |
| The guards don’t notice anything; | |
| they only see hard lime. | |
| Expanding cells have ill effects, | |
| 450 | the prisoner soon knew. |
| The noise was greater from the back. | |
| The left was cold as blue. | |
| But he kept digging up those walls. | |
| He never missed an inch. | |
| 455 | The cell grew wider every day, |
| but thirst was never quenched. | |
| “I want more room so I can stretch! | |
| I want to run ten miles! | |
| This cell cannot contain my needs, | |
| 460 | nor to what I aspire.” |
| And then one day he dug too deep, | |
| for light escaped a crack. | |
| He braced himself, and then he gave | |
| that thin rock wall a whack. | |
| 465 | A hole stood wide, no going back, |
| the guards would see his deed. | |
| He stepped outside the wall divide | |
| and breathed in flowering trees. | |
| His world was now so limitless. | |
| 470 | His walls were broken down. |
| No one could tell him what to do. | |
| Give prisoner a crown! | |
| But then a bang and sudden pain… | |
| A bullet pierced his back. | |
| 475 | The world was spinning quickly now. |
| His life was fleeing fast. | |
| The prisoner had pushed his bounds, | |
| he’d bettered his poor fare. | |
| But walls protect; he’d never learned | |
| 480 | it’s dangerous out there. |
Ballad of Man 
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