A man in the city of Rome,
Had nothing but pride and a cart.
He had no other home
Than the alley and, of course, his art.

This man lived only by selling.
A merchant of textiles was he.
Until one day he found himself dwelling
Amidst a mystery in the city.

A solution was clearly important,
For a crime had been provoked
By the tyrannous butchers and merchants
By whose business the poor had been choked.

The consuls and senate concurred
That a medium must be reached.
The judgment of vexed vendors was blurred,
And they wished the emperor impeached.

The matter was not yet resolved-
Which angered vendors and merchants alike,
But the wrath of the vendors dissolved
To a torrent of injustice and strife.

The flames in the hearts of the vendors grew
Until they reached their summit.
Then finally all self-restraint flew
And the city itself was lit.

The fire raged in protest
To tyranny far and near.
They initiated it with crinoline from the best
Of their wives' skirts with many a cheer.

The apartments were targeted first
Where the merchants had made their homes
The shops then in flames were submersed
In response to the negligent consuls of Rome.

Fumes and smoke rose to the sky
In less than a minute flat
The aroma of burning was high
And also the sound of combat.

The sound was not from swords,
Nor was it a battle of oaths.
The opposition was truly elegant for
By only actions was it engrossed.

The flames rose higher and higher;
As did the shrieks and prayers
Of the merchants whose homes were on fire,
And the vendors knew that victory was theirs.

No doubt the tyrants deserved this,
But how far to let it go?
Surely this no longer gave bliss
To the vendors, so they ended the show.

They got water with greatest celerity.
And sped to the ones in need.
The enemies now were pitied
By the ones who torched them for greed.

The vendors invited their rivals
To a humble dinner and rest
And the one, homeless, merchant,
Considered himself very blessed.