Voice typing again again

The boots up on my feet made many dread

To see my body without any head.

Who was allowed inside the Tower that day?

With her life the lady had to pay.

The adults in her life had a feet of clay.

Is there any humble person who can pray?

I would like to write a book instead.

Light a fire and find out who is dead.

God preserve the humble from decay.

Why did Shakespeare write so many plays?

I welcome comments and criticism

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