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
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