Though I'm not a Shropshire lad
When every lad and every lass
that ever shared my bed
must find beneath the graveyard grass
a place to lay their head,
beneath their sheets, bereft of breath,
then shall I shed a tear
and sketch a stanza on their death
and drink another beer.
that ever shared my bed
must find beneath the graveyard grass
a place to lay their head,
beneath their sheets, bereft of breath,
then shall I shed a tear
and sketch a stanza on their death
and drink another beer.
Cynthia Buell Thomas
Mon 17th Mar 2014 11:33
Clever, and brief, and up-to-date. Like those earlier bards who jingled off topical lines that set the common folk howling with glee. With considerable skill too.