Fred Fatfellow was not fat.
He was a skinny kid.
For it was fact with a name like that,
run was what he did.
He ducked into the music hall,
and the bullies didn’t know.
All that they could do was call,
for the bullies were all slow.
Fred Fatfellow heard and sat,
toward string music he soon turned.
Said, “I can make a sound like that,
While thoughts in his head burned.
They’d called him a scaredy cat,
because he’d turned and run.
Fred Fatfellow wasn’t that.
He was up with the sun.
He thought of revenge, it’s true,
as he walked back to the hall.
He didn’t know just what he’d do,
but he knew he’d show them all.
Fred concealed a silent dread
and played a guitar slow.
Until an old man stood and said,
“That’s good. Now change the tempo.”
So Fred strummed the strings on stage,
with a faster beat this time.
He wrote the rhythm on a page,
and played with words and rhyme.
When Fred knew the song was done,
he sang it in the hall.
Soon he saw the crowd was won,
and he’d shown them all.
Fred then looked into the crowd,
and he enjoyed it fully.
For looking back and singing loud,
was his childhood bully.
The song went number one.
Fred Fatfellow had his fame.
And by the time his life was done,
no one laughed at his name.
This has been my attempt at today’s WordPress Discover prompt, “tempo.”
I’d like to say how much I appreciate WordPress Discover’s daily prompts, which have ramped up the tempo of my blog.
That’s all the tempo I’ve got.
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