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Edna Sweetlove
Poems
Nov 2014
Forsooth
O yea, judge a lady not on the company she keepeth,
It may be a reflection of her lack of choice
Due to the ugliness of her face, tragic be that,
Verily, measure her not by the tears she weepeth,
For she may be weeping tears of humiliation, forsooth,
Pronounce thee not upon the words she speaketh,
Her accent may not be of the finest calibre
Thanks to her lower class upbringing and bad teaching
In this accursed socialist society we are cursΓ©d withal.
Who be one such as I to contemn her in hypocritic words?
In darkβs solace I'll just take her hand and let her share my camp-bed
And in innocent insomniac lust we'll **** like puppy-dogs.
But my best poem remains (cut & paste):
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/923855/memories-of-a-little-soho-bistro/
#humour
Written by
Edna Sweetlove
London
(London)
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