The Street Walker's Burial
She was a beautiful lady in her hay days Men of all walks of life drooled for her face All drank from her well and gave little pays Till her body could not take in more abuse With a stripped gown in the ward she laid Frail lonely and bones protruding as shade She fearfully saw her beauty and figure fade At last her life flew and her nice eyes greyed Her light weight became too huge to ferry Her casket was a boulder of a rock to carry It carried many souls which she would bury And in her well many men had made merry Mourners sat silently following the sermon The pastor bombarded sin like a war cannon Sweating as he did on top of her in Oregon When her hips smoothly moved in gyration The soldier too remembered that cold night When drunk he staggered and held her sight From her well he fetched with all his might Now he too among others dust he would bite Even the big politician was her customer too In the dark night he'd see and call her my boo He would then give her a thousand...