My Pretty Coat
Made from her silk my finnest woolen great long coat.
by James McLain
And it is pretty see it near there covered nearly over.
Some with both our loving hands.
I at her lips made metion never wore it inside out.
She brought it in, the pink laced neck one twin line.
The world has ever growing roving buldging eyes.
That never seem to move when laid at rest.
Setting high up on the bushy cherry covered hill,
There where she sits so I am whispers talking still.
Singing songs, I hear them rising in me taller all
she is in and out my breath, She takes it in.
Warm when in the cold I'm walking naked.
Whom comes at me when I in all her need.
Although now not as she sleeps as his before.
I can never forgive that song even that song of songs,
Accidents that have made me what I am.
Infamously, notorious, I stare at all her priceless things.
Untill all my priceless things are hers again.
Passing me one dog defiles me like a raven rued is nevermore.