Inglenook
Inglenook
She, the face in the embers,
The remnants of a raging fire,
Smoulders like a cigarette
Between lips of lustful desire.
Where men stoke in gay abandon,
Pokers hot as blacksmiths arms,
To fade and die in the ashes,
The inglenook of her charms.
Breathe, breathe, smoke inhale,
Fill your lungs, my laddy, my son,
And when you spit the bloody spit
What manhood will be done?
Ten a penny, 'tis Rose and Jenny
For whom you shall but die,
But it is dreams of her raging fire
That will burn the smokey sky.
She, the naked, fireside chat
Will weep upon the ashen grate,
And you dowsed her, her inglenook,
How it sealed a young mans fate.
Where flames rose and flames fell
Like the dance of a harlots fare,
And you, the gasp of life and death
Did often purvey her there.
Breathe, breathe, my laddy, breathe,
How dare you die so young,
The inglenook knows many tunes
But you have hardly sung.
Ten a penny, yet be you broke
And deader than her yearn,
She, the face in the embers,
When once, my son, you burned.
© RJVHorton2016
Copyright © Robert Horton | Year Posted 2016
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