There's an active young lady who swills
every drop that adventure's cup spills.
If it's filled to the brim,
she will start at the rim
and swim down til she's in to the gills.
Only flirting with danger fulfills
her addiction to trembles and thrills.
Any risk will suffice
if it helps feed her vice.
She pops perils as if they were pills.
She makes mountains where there were molehills,
tempting fate just to sharpen her skills
If she skates on thin ice
and it breaks...GOOD. That's twice
the excitement - the risk AND the chills!
Penthouse windows? She favors the sills.
Peaceful valleys? Just show her the hills.
Faced with any pitfall,
she'll go balls to the wall...
Got a porcupine? She'll take the quills!
As this lifestyle eventually kills,
she wastes no time on planning or bills.
So, you think you'll be set
when she's gone? Don't forget -
this includes life insurance and wills!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem