A Tough Shirt of Mine
My Guarantor: ’Never to get torn’
As it is continually worn:
A brush had had with Goring Horn
But not disfigured: A Hard Corn.
A Corduroy never the worse for wear,
Hard material spotting not a tear;
I’ve noticed: Every new morn
Often seeming The Reborn.
A Corduroy which did refuse
To drop me a lame excuse
For choosing to not gainfully last
And breathe its disappointing last…
A tough blue shirt of mine
I should be honoring with Spanish Wine.
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