Oh listen to this obese bard whose muscles are composed of lard; and I will titillate the lyre and celebrate with frenzied fire a jolly little country girl who on her forehead wore a curl. She wore that ringlet all the day and wore it when she hit the hay. When good she was as sweet as grass, but now and then this little lass would get a sort of nasty streak and she would ululate and shriek and rant around and tear her hair and bite the ground and cuss and swear. When bad she was an awful cat, you take it from a bard who's fat! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE IVY GREEN by CHARLES DICKENS GIBBON by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES OUR LADY OF CHANGE by BERTON BRALEY FAILAND by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN TO MARY RUSSELL MITFORD, IN HER GARDEN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LOVE AMONG THE RUINS by ROBERT BROWNING |