Canterbury Tales
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The Thief's Prologue
He was the nephew of the knight and cousin of the squire.
There was a cold-blooded thief, who was a perfect liar.
As slick as a fox, and as swift as a cat.
He smirked in the corner, with a feather in his hat.
Always searching for the perfect chance to steal,
He carried a small knife made of iron and steel.
With intentions to get whatever he sought,
He acted very discrete and never was caught.
Wearing a black coat and a pouch at his waist,
Black leather boots and his hood hid his face.
His blue eyes were hid beneath his blonde hair.
Feeling deep guilt, as he watched the priest with a glare.
Kept a careful eye on everyone in the yard,
Waiting for the Merchant to drop his guard...