Dave SmithWhite

Rookie - 176 Points (270552 / Sydney)

Song: Miss Anne Thrope And Her Mission - Poem by Dave SmithWhite

At my School of Christian Hope,
I detest the foreign pope;
And scrub the lye of virtue on my girls.
With their filthy catholic habits,
They're apt to breed like rabbits.
So I turn the lowest tarts into pearls.

You will know them by their curls,
Their swish and flounce and swirls;
That flinches not an ounce, to their need.
They're the Wayward Working Girls,
Now refined for dukes and earls:
The princes of this convict English breed.

My name is Miss Anne Thrope,
And I smooth the slippery slope,
Of girlish moral latitude and lies.
Not pale or weak or skittish,
But brave and staunch and British,
And they hold the fertile future, in their thighs.

My name is Miss Anne Thrope,
And I do my best to cope,
With the feckless working women and their stain.
By birch and bound by rope,
I will purge their sin with soap,
And educate their manners, if not brains.

My name is Miss Anne Thrope.
My mission of national scope.
May the old queen's standard forever be unfurled.
From the lowest degraded station,
These once fallen waifs of nation,
Are transformed to wives and mothers, for the world!

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, October 23, 2013


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