Auntie Bessie Poem by Pierre Rausch

Laced her tea to sip
And comes to a new end, a nephew
And through the sore origin to a break

You'd snap, you trembled, you don't know
But it's better then nothing
It was only per occurence
Of a young priest about him

Cockatrice rifle all around
Eccentric
With the running no one ever did
Let her go in and witness
Of a young priest about him

Cherry swan on Christmas night
That frees one mind
But it was too late
And when we supposed we where outside
A new end, a nephew
Someone who has not spoken for a word
But it was too late

Cherry swan on Christmas Night
For these are the things that take part
A final word of miracle
A final round