My Cart 
Login 

Previous

The Tale of Lord Lovell
by
Author Unknown


Next
 
Lord Lovell he stood at his own front door,
      Seeking the hole for the key;
His hat was wrecked, and his trousers bore
      A rent across either knee.
When down came the beauteous Lady Jane
      In fair white draperie.
 
'Oh, where have you been, Lord Lovell?’ she said,
      'Oh, where have you been?’ said she;
'I have not closed an eye in bed,
      And the clock has just struck three.
Who has been standing you on your head
      In the ash-barrel, pardie?’
 
'I am not drunk, Lad’ Shane,’ he said;
      'And so late it cannot be;
The clock struck one as I enterèd—
      I heard it two times or three;
It must be the salmon on which I fed
      Has been too many for me.’
 
'Go tell your tale, Lord Lovell,’ she said,
      'To the maritime cavalree,
To your grandmother of the hoary head—
      To any one but me:
The door is not used to be openèd
      With a cigarette for a key.’
 
This poem is in the public domain.
 
Purchase a framed print of this poem.


New comments are closed for now.
barb@germiat.net:
Good grief!
Posted 06/20/2014 04:54 PM
barb@germiat.net:
Good grief!
Posted 06/20/2014 04:53 PM
Cindy:
funny
Posted 06/20/2014 09:11 AM
KevinArnold:
Anon is my favorite poet, hands down.
Posted 06/20/2014 04:41 AM
Ross Kightly:
A very neat parody of the border ballad style and of one in particular - most of the ballad-stereotypes are on parade! I think I know why I have an image of W. C. Fields in my mind....
Posted 06/20/2014 02:37 AM


Contents of this web site and all original text and images therein are copyright © by Your Daily Poem. All rights reserved.
The material on this site may not be copied, reproduced, downloaded, distributed, transmitted, stored, altered, adapted,
or otherwise used in any way without the express written permission of the owner.