After this girl was grown
the tedium of the nursery began.

Either overdressed or a mess
she was a metaphor
for the suffering of the Irish.

Seven boys and seven girls, a harnessed pony
and a clay pipe, delinquency laws and bad thin boys.

Out like a scout, she tackled the fiels
in her hem or heels.

When she was dragged and staked
she called the story of ther life
Where My Body Went.

 

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