Coffers
Gluttons, paupers, tis not thee I address,
Rather ye men, middle income meager.
Dames hast thine coffers slightly beleaguered?
Garments bejeweled, appetites sated?
Vultures dine thy muscles of toils weary.
Lazy bones remain roadside, pauper's soup.
Wages earned, eggs income, gathered hen coop,
Through petty tasks, worthlessness abated.
Gentlemen, tis advice long awaited.
Find ye equal love, damsels of mind fair.
If thee seek only fair face, silky hair,
Coffers of paupers surely tis fated.
Hasten, young men, to thy ladies true worth.
For prosperity not, befell thy birth.
Copyright © Rhoda Tripp | Year Posted 2017
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