You still your heart, and steel your nerves for a move that's most courageous.
Now slide your queen across the board to position advantageous.
With piercing gaze and twisted lip, you skewer ol' Carlisle,
But, unperturbed, his face splits now into a wider smile.
Turning her head, your queen gives you a look most penitent,
"I'm sorry that it's come to this," she says with sad intent,
"But you and I could never be. It's Carlisle that I love.
He bade me lure you to this trap and turn on you thereof.
Now unclasps she her ivory cloak, and all her livery.
In it's place, she dons the garb of Carlisle's ebony.
How react you to this treachery? What feeling is awoken?
Seek you bloody vengeance? Or is your heart too broken?
Vengeance or Broken?
From o'er the crown of ivory king, you survey a checkered scene,
The darkly pending endgame of Carlisle Olberdeen.
A row of pale brave chessmen, beneath his yellow smile,
Stand captive, lost forever, to the schemes of that Carlisle.
And now your last bleak hopes ride the crown of your white queen,
to press a last advantage you pray he hasn't seen.
Or else a fearful strategy will turn the tides of fate.
If you sacrifice your bishop, will you spring the trap too late?
Queen or Bishop?