Classic poem of the day
The Doctor in a clean starch'd band,
His Golden Snuff box in his hand,
With care his Di'mond Ring displays
And Artfull shews its various Rays,
While Grave he stalks down — — — — Street
His dearest Betty — — to meet.
Long had he waited for this Hour,
Nor gain'd Admittance to the Bower,
Had jok'd and punn'd, and swore and writ,
Try'd all his Galantry and Wit,
Had told her oft what part he bore
In Oxford's Schemes in......
Member poem of the day
How could you do that
to a poor little kid
who's eyes you dimmed.
How could you do that
to a poor little kid
who's smile you took away.
How could you do that
to a poor little kid
who's heart you broke
and filled with rage.
How could you do that
...