From A Great Height. Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg

Beneath her balcony he’d sing
and promise love eternally.
The maiden spurned his offering.
She knew of his philandering.

But undeterred he’d nightly sing.
Experienced in the ways of maids.
He knew she would be listening
to hear his mandolin tinkling.

Eventually she would relent
appear upon the balcony.
Although she doubted his intent.
By trial and experiment.

He’d found that curiosity
A fatal weakness in young maids
would bring her to the balcony.
It always worked successfully.

It always had done in the past.
This maid was made of sterner stuff.
She vowed tonight would be the last
and down upon his head she cast.

The contents of her chamber pot.
Which served to dampen his ardour
Attar of roses it was not.
Although he deserved what he got.

I felt some little sympathy
to see him so discomfited.
To be drenched unexpectedly
in his intended victims pee.

A message that he’d not forget.
This lady was no easy prey.
The chamber pot she had upset
Has soaked him in Eau de Toilet.

He quickly hurried from the scene.
His pride damaged beyond repair.
His parting comments were obscene.
At least I thought they must have been..

No longer does the troubadour
Sing below her balcony
Sweet serenades about amour
No one has seen him any more.

07/09/2009
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