The Father's Son
Tough as a marksman;—
'Twere it misplaced, this line endures—
Crumbly like that evil Apple
That Eros can bring.
Mint as Human—that awful story
Thru a sailor’s tall Tale
Made in repetitive Chastity
Easily could pervade
That a dove could hide the differences—
He had a son—the few that knew of it
Praying but not to stagger it.
The ones who couldn’t
Would have to laugh with Me.
The ones who would not bare a Head
Under oath of conifer and alpine;—
Tyrants betrothed too—
Proposed his son The Example;
The one that out-rivaled Death—
Sold to his Love’s pleas
Not bargained within reason—
Piety of the Son’s a-begging
'Till his arrow had the Outset;—
Jis, it was said, replies in the Greatest
When the plea was Imported.
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