Mender

A poet once killed a man,
And all gathered to watch him hang
The sole poet, noose in neck
A death fitting for his life
Just before they hanged him
They wondered who’d tell their tales
Of their miseries and victory
They cast their eyes around
And saw there were too many cobblers
So, they grabbed one and hanged instead
A mender of soles
For a mender of souls
A bargain fit for an elegy