Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Our Heroine At Seventeen
Our heroine at seventeen
Loitering upon the stair
Outside the church
On French Church Hill
Waits for Father Miller there
A lacy kerchief o'er her hair
Looking rather Italianate
She is quite a fashion plate
And though this is way upstate
It might be a district of Milan
The way her bag, her blouse, her skirt,
Her shoes all match with such elan
For when one goes to worship God
It's needful to be quite well shod,
Scarved, coiffed, and dressed, don't you agree?
Least that's how it seems to me
Her mother was a Celtic girl
Thus her eyes, her skin are fair
And, under lace, her sleek blonde hair
Loitering upon the stair
Outside the church
On French Church Hill
Waits for Father Miller there
A lacy kerchief o'er her hair
Looking rather Italianate
She is quite a fashion plate
And though this is way upstate
It might be a district of Milan
The way her bag, her blouse, her skirt,
Her shoes all match with such elan
For when one goes to worship God
It's needful to be quite well shod,
Scarved, coiffed, and dressed, don't you agree?
Least that's how it seems to me
Her mother was a Celtic girl
Thus her eyes, her skin are fair
And, under lace, her sleek blonde hair
