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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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