For lack of wench and want of mead
My fingertips to my temple knead
Where upon I hear tick-tocking
Of a most peculiar ring.
The face of time this ring doth bear
But a smile, this face, it doth not wear........
Dark clouds above
Overshadow young love,
Rain pitter patter drips
A meeting of lips
The glowing of hearts
Never to part......
From thy beauty I lend my wit,
To praise thy beauty I use it
Along with aught else I can find
'Mongst books, the skies and muses nine.
Please be kind O daughters of Zeus
Fill me with words that I may use
To warm the heart of my lady
And praise thy gift of inspired poesy.........
This bottle full o' bobs,
(A whisky bottle no less)
Is a symbol of hope
For when times are hard pressed........
