Women with beard
she smile gaily at times,
proud of her eyes,
for unlike ladies mouth
they be weary of lies.
Women she sit
she twist the nest on her chin,
beautiful she is.
She hold her breast high
before she grow her staple,
a flick of her wrist
mend all her mens
willing and able.
She be greater now
she tell you,
though she be thought of
as fable.