In thrall to the East-ish

The thrallish-en-dom pity is over-ish
We would have much liked it to endure
And though the facts stay respectable
The consequences, just a tad impure.

The thrall once again is done for
All good things must come to an end
So no worries, ’tis but an over-thrall
Our crawlishness, thus we have to depend.

The tra-la-la is another thrall-en-dom
Its trinkliness is of another age
You take out the tra and the la-la goes
No mantra, no trace even of rage.

A bit of thrall mind you is linger-ish
It persists in spite of it all
Not treason to bank on its emptiness
But reason, the core of the call.

Wandering off on unexpected tangent-ials
The la-la ahead of the tra
Lo some and then your beholding
Off key, so-la in place of the fa.

The ghost of the East is up now
Shrugging off the yawn to pray
The forest has beckoned, thrush too
East, wakes up to answer to-day.