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Bu**er her mother

Hearts that beat together stay together

But sometimes quite unexpectedly one

Heart may draw away from the other

The attraction gone, the magnetic pull



My God but I am in barren times

Reluctant to write, ink like glue

Mind addled and seemingly beyond

Redemption. My love has recently

Forsaken me and I am bereft of all

Things dear to my heart: a jug of ale

A hearty meal and a seductive bed


My voluptuous wench has lately

Vacated my lodgings depriving me

Of my rightful comforts. What was

Said was said in jest and no more

And yet I pay a price far in excess

Of any humour I had in mind


I cannot fathom this woman but I am

Prepared to accept that I probably should

Have resisted lambasting her mother

She's not that bad really and there was

No cause on my part to call the good

Lady a carthorse of no more use than

For pulling a dray


Oh well, I shall have to content myself

With a doxy until her return – my wench

That is – Bu**er her mother...

© Joseph G Dawson
18/03/2018 – 30/09/2016

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