Auntie Emmaline for Friend Leslie
Auntie Emmaline.
My cousin Peter was a prig.
A precious little Mamas boy.
Who thought it rather infra dig
a little mischief to enjoy.
He combed his hair and shined his shoes
and was polite to every one
I was quite pleased to hear the news
that he had just up and gone.
To live with a girl, Elsie Ma.
Who was no better than a whore.
It made me glad I have to say.
He’s not my rival anymore.
Nobody says that should I should be
just like Peter. Dear me no.
The rotten apple on the tree.
But what the family do not know.
Is that I arranged for them to meet.
I knew she would lead him astray
He had no chance at all poor Pete.
I don’t regret it in any way.
I’m sure that Peter has more fun.
Than if he had stayed safe at home.
Today he’s just another one
Who felt that it was time to roam.
Far from his mothers eagle eye
escape from under mothers thumb.
They were some things he had to try
and realised their time had come.
He was disowned immediately.
His name is never mentioned now.
Sometimes I meet him on the sly
I like him better now somehow.
Now that he’s not held up to be
the Icon I should emulate
To tell the truth he’s just like me
Although he found out rather late.
Though I appear respectable.
I have a wild streak which I hide.
My aunt finds me acceptable.
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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