London 1904

Thursday, 28 June 2007

57. 1915 The Greater Loss

The Greater Loss


I sometime lose a little thing
My temper I refer to
And bricks I even long to fling
At men I must say Sir to
And while I wage a mental fight
I’d give say half a dollar
For some sweet soothing that might
Keep down my collar

But sometimes I’m aware of loss
Incomparably of no avail is
Angry force of all mankind I’m hater
But then I’d give if I but could
My last and only dollar
For just one little stud that would
Keep down my rising collar

FAI 1915

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