At Fortiss’ utterance, Goodfellow broke
Into a bout of laughter most intense.
His face contorted into a grin so wide
The distance of one end to other end
Seemed greater than the planet’s second moon.
“My friend,” Goodfellow complimented him,
“You are a man most pure of heart,
A rarer sort than oftentimes is found here.”
His face crestfallen, he hastened up to add:
“I say that too of our fellow Marines.”
It hit him then, that Fortiss, of how bad
The situation was out on this rock,
That outlaws ran about the cursed roads
And lawmen, in deceit, proclaimed the law,
Yet were themselves supplanted on the take.
“I’ll not conform!” good Fortiss then did vow.
The two of them, in hushed and silent form,
Spectated as the final drops of day
Withdrew into the cuppèd hands of night,
Which full of vice and sin had come to play.