Wednesday, July 2, 2014


A mavis you call the thrush
that is singing in the bush.
And you call a deviling
the swift that is on the wing.

You know the varying names,
you know the different words;
you are a cocky-guy who knows
his way around lovely hen-birds !

I knew a girl
who walked the street,
and saw the men
she would greet.
They knew the girl
more than I
for I met her only
with my eye.

Yes I knew a girl
who had a beat
like a policeman
but no flat feet.
Her heels were high,
made her look tall,
though I could see
that she was small.

It's a small world
and a short street.
Many the big men
she would meet.
To my eye
she looked a treat,
a warm smile
that gave a body heat.

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