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WHIMSY
the madrigal, volume iii
She was a ruminant preacher
by desmond mansfield
She was a ruminant preacher
Her son was a bag of doubloons
Yet not once did these facts feature
In the mossy words on their tombs
​
The reason for this was simple
Her daughter paid the masons fee
Yet she was but a small wrinkle
On the inside thigh of a tree
Desmond Mansfield is an Englishman in Edinburgh. He’s new to publishing poetry with work so far in Dreich and Runebear weekly. He’s a big fan of whimsy.
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