One fox-faced virgin, word for word,
Repeats each sland’rous thing she’s heard,
And sourly smiles as scandal slips
With gusto from her thin white lips.
She’s bad enough! but list a minute.
Beside her mate she isn’t in it.
This latter lady, ‘pon my word,
Repeats things . . . . she has never heard.
(Harry Breaker Morant)
More Poetry from Harry Breaker Morant:
- Who's Riding Old Harlequin Now? (Harry Breaker Morant Poems)
- Butchered to make a Dutchman's Holiday (Harry Breaker Morant Poems)
- The Nights at Rocky Bar (Harry Breaker Morant Poems)
- Since the Country Carried Sheep (Harry Breaker Morant Poems)
- West by North Again (Harry Breaker Morant Poems)
- Westward Ho! (Harry Breaker Morant Poems)