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By Wordley (R.H) Submitted by wordley Date: 2002 Mar 03 Comment on this Work [[2002.03.03.18.17.454]] |
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To Gwendoline Morgan, Oh dearest maid I have to leave, for other lands I'm bound No more your champion can I be, my armour is weak i've found A break within its firmest frame has let an arrow in The bold sir Dylan has me accused of depraved and lustful sin Oh dear maid, your youth and charm are not for the likes of me Married and growing older in years, they number now fifty A grave misservice was done t'other day when I answered your sweetest plea All I sought was to lift your spirits high, to lend a sense of dignity But bold sir Dylan misconstrued, and has murdered the rhymes so free His electronic arrow pierced my keep, his words they did offend He infered some lacivious intent, not the well-meaning words of a friend And now I find the words have gone, this has taken so long to write And I find that I can no longer see the way to sit at my keyboard and write |