I'm feisty, hoary, with no child to own
I'm rusty, I'm vain, my hair grays have grown
Furrowed and galled, beau and power is lost
My drapes, my shapes, contrast the mirror's thought
My womb is rich but barren comes a child
Sheepish and winsome, my tongue is als' mild
I've sneered as brier, I know my deeds are wrong
But then I was lass, beauty, young and strong
As the jade and sun, so was I possessed
To my beau and riches, as if obssessed
Think of me sweet and notch, term not as witch
Prattle not, not of me, that's the prophet's preach
I have marred and I know, tart mem'ries hunt
The unbrage of my past now howls, not brunt.
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