Here's an old poem of mine from the cellar, 90's vintage:
"A gift, though small, is hardly all
That passes 'twixt giver and getter;
For as we get near it, that generous spirit
Leaves both a little bit better."
"Blarney," gibed Joan, "John, you just want the loan
Of my body. Such credit's not smart.
You think to deceive, but I'll not believe
'Til your tongue becomes dumber than your heart."
(This is the continuation of the Blarney Duck Ale verse, now in the "failed seduction" genre. I still have not quite solved the technical problems of two speakers and of bridging the gap from the first to the second stanzas. Cheers, anyway!)
