Shackled with contempt an' scorn
Was this pitiful boy,
He the unwanted born,
He the thorn t' annoy.
He blanched all with chat,
An' laughingly spite;
He was an agitating gnat
That made one feel his bite!
He had no couth t' heal his yap,
For all was constant rant,
An' his diddle, daddle oozing trap
Would not stop t' pant!
Each cord plunked on his voice
Gave an awful thudding twinge,
It drew one no able choice
But t' clasp each ear an' cringe!
0 Responses:
Post a Comment
Thank you, for taking the time to comment on my blog! It is always a pleasure to here what my readers have to think. If you have any questions you want answered, you can go to my contact page.
NOTE: I will remove any comments that I feel aren't appropriate.
Sarah Elizabeth