As
he was walking down the street,
All dressed up in his best,
Thinking
of her he soon would greet,
His heart lay in his breast.
But
as she clasped him by the hand
And feigned such glad surprise,
It
quickly left its native land
And dwelt within his eyes.
But
there it didn’t stay for long –
Without the least demur,
As
if its worth were scarce a song,
He gave it unto her.
But
as he scaled the garden gate,
And headed for the South,
With
Towser begging him to wait,
It jumped into his mouth.
Jan.
14, ‘91
Pub.
in the
Somerville
Journal,
Feb. 7, ‘91
No comments:
Post a Comment