True Love
Her hair as red as a flame
Her lips were colored the same
… That Irish Lass
… So full of sass
He’s wonderin’ if she’d take his name?
Her to him: “You’ve got a crust!
With courtin’ and dowry a must …
… in wooin’ I’ll naught
… ever be caught
Afore me name I’d adjust!”
“Oh, wee lassie, please see:
‘T is you - the woman for me
… I’ve 10,000 wells
… of oil I sells
Marry me”, he said on one knee.
“Oh! My! I see you’re sincere
My name change … it’s drawing near
… ‘bout that oil …
… can’t let it spoil!
Now … what’s my new last name, me dear?
Copyright © Jack Clark | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment