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Rated: · Other · Comedy · #1706586
This has to be recited in a Scottish accent, it a little ditty about life's misdemeanours.
When last I tread these weary boards,
I was but a slip of a lass.

And now I am chastened by cruelty
having lost all faith and charity.

S'mite more mature, I hear you addd....
and for that I am glad.

Only lines and wrinkles tell the tale
of my fall from grace from which I ail.

From ignorance to egocentricity...
And I do not belittle thee.

T'was my misfortune I confess.
that led the blessed and bled the rest.

And in this shit heap where I now sit
I curse a little, cry a bit.

Misfortune is my middle name..
Call the preacher, let me live again.

Calamity to calamity, I am Jane
I create the mess and feel the pain.

And thought I sit and mourn for now
I am neither beaten nor even cowed.

In my bosom, beats a heart
and while it beats I can start.

Pick up the pieces, be on my way,
dust myself down for another affray.
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