Friday, February 18, 2011

Branigan's Lass

 Young Branigan's lass
Had a heart for the chasing,
Laughing her way through
The men of the town.
A glance from her eyes
Sent every pulse racing,
She kept standing them up
And then knocking them down.

A beautiful temptress
A siren among them,
Though seeing the danger
They couldn't resist.
But she was a lass
With insatiable hunger,
So the wealthiest men
Were the top of her list.

Through turbulent nights
Her suitors were dreaming,
Of moments of conquest
When she would succumb.
For not one of them yet
Had tasted the sweetness,
Of her in compliance
As the race had been won.

Nobody counted the hearts
That were broken,
No measure was taken
Of those she deceived.
Now back in her stable
The lady is sleeping,
The bookmakers smile
The punters are grieved.

Copyright©Alan Gilbert 2011.

1 comment:

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