You, Lass
You, unforgettable lass
Wined and dined by champion stuff
Chose me singlehandedly
Disdaining emblem, lance and ruff
I turned out to be minstrel though
Luckless wayward troubadour
Flitting past from post to post
Stringing harps and often poor
Lamented bald and ribald all,
‘That epitome of womankind
Should languish in the arms of such
Fool, who’s always left behind’
Stunned, however, I remain
When each morning brings to me
Still today at sixty plus
Like morning dew your loving glee
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