When he was a Little Kid
ONE DISTANT GRAND-MOTHER from DARLING ENGLAND
came to Visit his Village;
Yet she wasn't EASY-GOING Mrs Clairvoyant.
She came to Teach one STRANGE OLD SONG
surprisingly beginning with Line:
"My Blush...
......................what kind of Fleur..."
And every Time GRAND-MOTHER sang such Odd BALLAD
he felt himself as VIRGIN devoid of Consent
sold during BARGAIN of the BROTHEL.
"But GRANDMA!
I'm IRISH.... I don't need to know
what happened before the Birth of Sire Snake-Skins"
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And to Honesty of Ear,
Back in the Past it was considered among Certain Rows of GENTRY
that
🐍 Sire $nake-$kins🐍 was one Intricate Netizen of CITY,
Persona Non-Grata in GANG$TER-Circus of one Honourable Mister,
Sire SNIFF-SNOOKER abiding by same Street where they both resided in.
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"My Blush...
.........................what kind of Fleur!
Arouses Thyne Toungue
Petal after Blow of Air.
And if My Blush...
..............................And if My Blush
[*pause. semi-interruption]
How Blissful Thou Art!
To come across the Dining Room
And Witness the Youthful Bloom
One Early Blossom of
My Blush"
What puzzled the BOY was that
his GRANDMOTHER from Ipswich,
Small Borough of Suffolk
sang such Intervening Verse
only in the Presence of Guests
"My Blush...
...............................what kind of Fleur
confounds Thy Daily Rumination
My Blush...
.........................what kind of Fleur!
Arouses Thyne Toungue
Petal after Blow of Air.
And if My Blush...
..............................And if My Blush
How Blissful Thou Art!
To come across the Dining Room
And Witness the Youthful Bloom,
One Early Blossom of
My Blush"
YOU ARE READING
Tell me more about Your Pain
PuisiHe forgot to wear his Favourite Hat on his Path to Subway Station As always Clenching the Teeth Without Curiosity to Taste anything Peculiar in Particular
