Poem Number 579

Many rivers have I crossed to find you
But, i must pause... and use my paper bag to huff some glue
And refreshed, I take in the warm glow of Spring
As i pull down my now wet pants and dry myself off unclean
Hark! Out of yonder thicket now arises a clammor
A whaling, club-handed feller carrying a voice and a jammer
He stands in the way of me and my own true love
I pull out of my nap-sack some jelly-grease and a furry glove
And he makes his retort with a snarl, and hunkers down
As I rear up to him and giggle like a deranged clown
The clouds passing o'er like swans on a lake, grow dark
And my eyes grow watery and soft and gain a dull spark
And the game is over. The man falls to the earth and is spent
His body is limp and full as it lies next to the stump and bent
So I trod on to find you, my love, across pastures and plains
Through thickets and towns, cities and weather full of rains
My pants are now many miles behind me and decaying
The furry glove is no longer of use and i preached the precher some praying
And I think I'll forget my love and lay here and die.