Round of Poetry
Lasses
Red nails they wear,
Red as their lips and hair,
Bloody red dresses.
Beware, beware.
Of those lips and hair,
your blood will shine nicely upon their bodies.
âRedcap!â youâll swear,
And oh, how dare,
They prefer the term, âlassesâ.
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Admirers
They watch from afar,
They wish to be where you are,
Smiling as they watch.
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Mountian woman
She skips and she sways,
Oâer the mountains she plays,
on her journey to her husband.
When she walks through the door,
she covers her face in fake horror,
at the mangled corpse of her husband.
The police mill about,
one sees her and shouts,
âThis man was your husband!
Do not fear, my dear,
we police are here,
weâll find who killed your husband!â
âHe?â She cries, pulling the officer over,
âOh no, he had a lover!
It was her, she bled my husband!â
Tears in her eyes,
she lets out an awful cry,
wailing for her husband.
âShe skipped and she swayed,
Oâer the mountains she had played,
on her way to screw my husband!â
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