Treasure Island

David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

On Owain Glyn's Temperance Club

On Owain Glyn's Temperance Club
I think it cruel
And not too funny
That a Welshman's luck
Runs out with money;
That the naked doxy
Sitting on my lap
Fat and poxy
Smelling of the clap,
Throws me out
With a naval cheer,
'Cause I'm short a pound
For a round of beer;

As I turn to home,
My heart is broken,
She loved not me
Though the words were spoken;
How I wish I were
A man of wealth
And not a married man
Poor born and Welsh.

Irish women
Make better wives
Famous for
Their grandeur size;
Their hearts are bigger,
They're more forgiving
So's their liver,
Our lies are shriven.

So I tell myself
As I stagger home
She'll be honey on the shelf
Once I get her prone. |

Submitted: Thursday, January 17, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (On Owain Glyn's Temperance Club by David McLansky )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson

The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »


Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]