I drive my cows to Corby; On sweet spring-grass they're fed; But it's Madge who nestles wantonly In William Corby's bed. I drive my sheep to Corby, And the gold-dust's on the willow; But it's Nellie's winsome curls that lie On William Corby's pillow. I drive my geese to Corby When the bind-weed's in the wheat; But it's Bess who cuddles warm and sly 'Neath William Corby's sheet. I drive my pigs to Corby; And the hips and haws are red; But none but me will mind o' he When William Corby's dead! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETICAL ABSTRACTS: 2. METAPHYSICAL by HAYDEN CARRUTH EPITAPH FOR A SOLDIER by DAVID IGNATOW TO W.E.B. DUBOIS - SCHOLAR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CRITIC AND POET by EMMA LAZARUS DOMEDAY BOOK: MIRIAM FAY'S LETTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALBERT SCHIRDING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |