Just
look at the hammock all faded and worn,
Its
edges down hanging its webbing quite worn;
Dejected
and lonely and all out of gear,
A
wreck and an outcast in less than a year.
O
back in the springtime ‘twas natty and new,
And
gladdened the eyesight of more than a few;
A
sweet summer maiden then took it away
Where
her spacious veranda looked over the bay.
Alas
for the hammock which swung to the breeze!
‘Twas
sat upon nightly beneath the dark trees;
‘Twas
held down and battered and swung to and fro
Till
now it’s a picture of hunger and woe.
If
that hammock could talk Ah! the tales it might tell –
For
the good of its owner ‘tis fully as well.
Tho’
‘tis a great pity in less than a year
It
is so neglected and all out of gear.
Oct.
20, ‘05
Pub. “Mercury”, Oct. 27, ‘05
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