THREE little ghostesses, Sitting on postesses, Eating buttered toastesses, Greasing their fistesses, Up to their wristesses. Oh, what beastesses To make such feastesses! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PRODIGAL SON by DAVID IGNATOW MAGDALEN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO SAMUEL COLERIDGE UPON HEARING HIS 'SOME I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS..' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IF HE SHOULD COME by EDWIN MARKHAM A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1809) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |