IN PICCADILLY CIRCUS
SITS A LADY Mrs PYM
HER SHAWL IS GREY AND TIDY
HER BONNET BLACK AND TRIM
HER APRON STIFF AND SNOWY
HER BASKET DEEP AND WDE
WITH HYACINTHS AND TULIPS AND DAFFODILS INSIDE
ONE NIGHT WHEN IT WAS SNOWY
AND RAIN WAS FALLING FAST
SHE HADNT SOLD HER BLOSSOMS
AND TURNED TO GO AT LAST
TO HER DEAR LITTLE OLD COTTAGE
WHERE A GRATE THAT HAD NO FIRE IN
AND A DISH THAT HAD NO MEAT
SHE JUST PUT DOWN HER BASKET
THEN ALL THE FLOWERS FLEW OUT
SHE THOUGHT THEY LOOKED LIKE FARIES
AND SOON SHE HAD NO DOUBT
THE FLAMES ROLLED UP THE CHIMNEY
THE TABLE SET ITSELF
TURKEY FROM THE OVEN
AND PUDDING FROM THE SHELF
A QUILT OF SATIN PATCHWORK
FLEW DOWN UPON HER BED
HER CLOAK AND SQUIRREL TIPPET
WAS HANGING ON THE HEAD
HER PURSE FELL THROUGH THE RAFTERS
AND CHUCKLED WHERE IT LAY
AND LAUGHTER SHOOK THE CHIMNEY
AS THE FARIES FLEW AWAY
2007-02-24
00:10:30
·
3 answers
·
asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Other - Arts & Humanities