R. I. P. Poem by Jan Struther
R. I. P.
HERE lies a woman-known to me, and you-
Who tried to eat her cake and have it too;
Who saved her pence and threw away her pounds,
Ran with the hare and hunted with the hounds.
When torn between her country's laws, and love's,
She played with fire-but wore asbestos gloves.
Then, having sold her soul and cashed the cheque,
She fell between two stools, and broke her neck.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 8:02:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
