To Chase Away Those Ills Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

You've clawed your way up to the top,
To dropp the jaws of foolish people.
Although this climb you have not stopped,
Already you've prepared a sequel.

There are mouth and lips,
You wish to permanently seal.
And this,
Would...
Give you a lift to thrill.

And this,
Would...
Cure every ill you feel.

Those obstacles you've conquered,
Have been crushed into tiny rocks.
Those obstacles you've conquered,
Have got you heated to sizzle hot!

And this,
Has...
Produced a peace of mind so real.

You've clawed your way up to the top,
To dropp the jaws of foolish people.
Although this climb you have not stopped,
Already you've prepared a sequel.

And this,
Has...
Produced a peace of mind so real.

And this,
Has...
Come to chase away those ills.
Of any kind on a mind.
And this,
Has...
Come to chase away those ills.
Of any kind on a mind.
And this,
Has...
Come to chase away those ills.