He turned away at end of day
From his promise to wed.
With loathsome smile, nothing but vile,
Denied what he had said.
“I’ll return home, from which I roam,
To wife who waits for me.
You should forget we ever met,
I’ll not your future be.”
I sadly cried, said he had lied,
He patted my bent back.
“Oh little one, it has been fun.
But you’re getting the sack.”
Feeling so bad, I called my dad,
Told him my love had lied.
He came so fast with gun to blast
The one for whom I’d sighed.
In steady voice, said, “You’ve a choice
You’ll either run or die.
No man does live, whom I’ll forgive
For making my girl cry”.
I beg young miss, take heed from this
And do not give your trust
To him who’d bed before you’re wed.
That wedding ring’s a must.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson