She on the Twentieth
Street liveth
In a plush penthouse;
And I in my own rustic crib
Live by my ancient nib;
And for love, I'm no mouse.
The dollybird useth iThings
Those by Apple made,
While I by my little things
Run my blessed trade.
Though no kingly life
I do presently live
Nor have now fortune and fame
Great, high queenly dame;
And I mayn't a costly gadget
At the moment avoid
Like that dear iPhone or tablet;
Yet make not my affection void:
I can be a commoner,
But do need nay a coroner.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 1:36 AM UTC
She on the Twentieth
Street liveth
In a plush penthouse;
And I in my own rustic crib
Live by my ancient nib;
And for love, I'm no mouse.
The dollybird useth iThings
Those by Apple made,
While I by my little things
Run my blessed trade.
Though no kingly life
I do presently live
Nor have now fortune and fame
Great, high queenly dame;
And I mayn't a costly gadget
At the moment avoid
Like that dear iPhone or tablet;
Yet make not my affection void:
I can be a commoner,
But do need nay a coroner.
Request permission to use this poem