Mabely Rides To Town To Find a Man

Near the shire long about the twisting bend Mabely holds her skinny frame inside, in tight On higher ground above the United Kingdom The mare moves slower, almost to a stop To a whisper in the dark so solemn to behold Its passenger is light and prays there is no fall Stepping in mud becomes precarious as they go A hidden stone could be a minefield dire Cliffs are steep, nowhere to be now at this late hour The young girl is not so pretty in physique But her eyes are killer keen, warm and kind Her village is far from reality as they go down Winding towards the town, which is nearer now Rural midlands hold their charm in styled grace Shrubbery takes shape, greener than need be Rooted in history, beauty has no better place to be The horse knows how to find a safer path Sometimes a carrot helps the situation Mabely knows how to find a wealthy man A kiss clears the path to least resistance All roads are paved in gold so hold on tight Beguiling eyes rise to the occasion of a smile Her final destination, to catch another man Then plant him in her garden with the others