this is marvellous stuff - can't pick out the good lines to comment on - too
many

the rhymes, though, trot along lovely, except for lines 9 and 10, which
break ranks

and then agian I stumble at 'lurch' which has got separated from 'church'.

I'm not sure is this intentional - there can be something dull about a
perfect rhyme scheme - but this poem is anything but dull linguistically and
has a wonderful traditional ballad feel about it is almost deserves to be
the great poet Anon.

Terri )O(

-----Original Message-----
From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]]On
Behalf Of grasshopper
Sent: 18 November 2002 22:30
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: New sub: Sally's song


This is not about either Sally on the list-LOL.

            Sally's song

Sally sits on the arse of the day,
her slammerkinn ribbons all astray,
blue in her hair, red round her throat,
smelling the cullies as high as a goat.

The London road brought Sally down
into the grey and gaggling town,
away from the fields and the delving cold,

into the capital,  twelve years old.
Smile now, Sally, don't you frown,
though the streets aren't paved with gold.

Your Ma is dead, your Pa's a sot.
Feel in your stocking for what you've got.
Your petticoats hide such tight young meat

so sell it while it's hot and sweet.
Another punter, and God willing,
another dance, another shilling.

Raw gin makes your stomach lurch.
Let's go down to Tyburn Hill
to see the robbers dangling still.

In satin slippers trip by the church.
Lace your gown to make cocks swell
and paint your lips as red as Hell.

Blue in her hair, red round her throat,
smelling the cullies high as a goat,
her slammerkin ribbons all astray.
Sally sits on the arse of the day.

                               grasshopper