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