My Lady by William Pratt
Your mane of flowing chestnut is quite soft
The luscious scent of which doth waft
It is like the untainted blood of a virgin
The torturing touch of your killing kiss
Nothing short of the devil's blooming bliss
My lady...
Lovelier than anything plant that dare grows
He wraps his oafish arms around you
I'll break the great tit's nose
Cracking punch of a haughty hand
Leaves a telling bruising brand
Of my undying love for a rose now thorned
Gash splaying across my forlorn face
He thinks I've been put in my lonesome place
But my lady...
You lick my sanguine wound
A succulent sensation against blanched skin
In my deepest dreams we are merrily marooned
The busted ship has sapid sailors for drink
Swirls of crimson ecstasy turn your bodice of ivory to pink
It is a vivid vision to be upheld
We are together in a hush of tarry and time
Every moment swells with the shimmering sublime
Oh, my lady!
The love in a dead heart that I have for thee
It brings a telltale throb and reminds the philandering prat
Your wafting wiles are only meant for an ill-fated me