Monday, 21 February 2011

An Ode to Molly

O, Molly! How I love thee when it rains,
And we shelter with solitaire and ker-plunk
Along the coast, next the boats still In chains
You are tipsy with gin, but I am drunk
With love for thee and thy happy lot
Your supreme beauty so effortless
Soon to breach the far-reaching seas
And evade fearful folk of mischievous plot
That envy your sweet contentedness
In sidling through summer with ladylike ease

O, tis true you are of vintage
Long ago was your birth,
In mellow flora and mouldy green
You've spent a long age midst the brambles and earth
And to the critics of thy brows and mouth,
That savagely dent your self-esteem,
Those from Pickney, with vehicles dull and dim
Lets flee from them, away further south
Where we will drink, and leave the world unseen
As you tell us young things 'live life to the brim'.

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