WOT POTREE HAD OUGHTTA BEE
The lady poet told me with a smile
that only poems which rhyme
(at least most of the time),
are ever truly worthwhile -
So . . .
When I was going sowing
seeds where winds were blowing
and the cattle gently lowing
and the sunrise colours glowing
I saw my sweet love going
meadowing and so knowing
grass soon required a-mowing
I went sowing? No, a-mowing!
I left the cattle lowing
where the sunrise was a-glowing
and the pinky roses blowing
where I heard a rooster crowing
and knowing my love was going
went a-mowing. Yes, I did
I went a-mowing
with my love I went a-mowing
meadowing.