Should the crosses of wires flag crosses of flesh,
Should I lie in the mires, crushed down to mash?
Should be cooked until crusty,
Then seasoned to musty,
Then dashed over mulberry stash?
Should the tears fill in liters my epitaph’ readers,
Should the Reaper treat wines, when returned from my widows –
Should they claim to a limb
Or portray me with nimb
Ever fashioning drooling of weepers?
Should the bark I would sail become as a rail,
Should the mast come as oak, while the deck – as a pail?
Should the ravens cry gulls,
All the tales speak dulls,
And the grave-man alone could send hails?
Should these all turn a crank, I will laugh in their ‘stash!
Flag the crosses of wires above your own flesh,
Jar the mould, whereas mine
Make distilled in top notch
Of a perfectly spirited Scotch.
Should the crosses of wires flag crosses of flesh
© Copyright: Виллард Корд, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112053008447
Свидетельство о публикации №112053008447
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