My Broken Mandolin

MY BROKEN MANDOLIN In your anger; you smashed my mandolin And along with it you also broke my heart Thinking you were so clever, and so smart So I turned you into a wooden mannequin Making sure I took such care on your ears And sat you down upon your old arm chair Repaired mandolin in hand with you share With such lament in your eyes, I see tears Happy, as for my mandolin your ears bent Finished, I stood before you to take a bow Happiness, that you like my mandolin now But alas, it was not, what her tears meant Indiana Shaw . . . : /