And, even if you’d said you’d had
Some terrible diseases,
I’d still have been as glad as glad
To get down on my knees
And suck the water from your spring
And munch your manna bread.
But you were hard as anything
And fobbed me off, instead.
And so I took myself away
To view an arctic waste,
Where I’ve remained until this day,
It being to my taste,
And haven’t seen you once since then
And maybe never shall again.
Photo by ÉMILE SÉGUIN ✳️✳️✳️ on Unsplash
Breakdown
