'Upstairs During the Ball' a poem by Scott Spethman

The shrill deceiver walked past the door
And the room turned an eclectic hue
Gentleman and ladies admire the fake decor
Nothing at all here in this ballroom was askew
The host looked outside and then knew
The ye-olde pubs are closing
All his guests were only posing

Through the upstairs window came a young man
All he took was the hosts well-groomed head
No guest had a clue to the battle plan
Their host was now all but dead
Upon his new Indian carpet he had bled
What else would fate for him deem?
A father who would not let his daughter gleam

Her father kept her under lock and key upstairs
The young man had to help this young lass
Then all of this would be theirs
The world with the glitter and class
He would now see his friends and surpass
A young man with money laid across his mind
He steals from the first rich-loving girl he may find