A penny waiting for a change,
A fecund fellow – long she stood,
Basking at lengthy processions of brotherhood,
Briefcases and stethoscopes line thy bold physique,
Whenceforth heaps of lorries – they gleam beneath,
There they ascend, to mounting glories of fine success.
While dear missus, to thy homestead, was left to tend.
This ember, long left alight, gracefully smoldered;
A compass missing its needle, no visage consoled her.
Anon, her heart’s ablaze by mighty flames,
That no one nor Poseidon can hold at bay,
Thy burning passion’s been long astray,
A mighty, noble lass long stood to hear cacophonies of gents.
And now – now is the time to pave the way,
For she once stood in cloisters of academes,
No palisade shall feign to be mere entities.
Long we’ve been left to rock the cradles,
Yet under green lamps, we’ve long been awakened,
At last, I vow to you, dear ladies and femmes, that for our march:
I shall turn the tables and bring you bounties of cents!
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