A woman is the greatest of all contradiction;
She is an angel in truth and a demon in fiction.
She is afraid of a cockroach, she will scream at
a mouse but she will tackle a man as big as a house.
She will take him for better, she will take him for worse
She will split his head open and then be his nurse.
And when he is well and can get out of bed, she will
pick up a pot and throw at his head.
She is faithful, deceitful, keen-sighted and blind;
She is crafty, she is simple, she is cruel and kind.
She will lift up a man and she will cast him down;
She will make him a king and she will make him a clown.
You fancy she is this but you find out she is that,
For she will play like a kitten and bite like a cat.
In the morning she will but in the evening she wont
and when you are always expecting she does she don't.
The cock has crow
after so many fuse of pure grains
it grows above the eagle claw, off the restless shore
picking pin in the mud
to see the cockerel grow
cock-a-doodle-doo, the cock crows
off the mother hen that cluck out
at the sight of stronger keen sighted
to her apron lies the cart
after sobbingly to the cadence of moo
ushering in babble of joy
in the midst of two
your eyes saw it through,
through the dirty, war front.
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