Poet # Eight

Notting's Hill

Were it me by Notting's Hill,
Were I that smarmy knave,
I'd never want that thrill;
I am by no means brave.
I'd hide in a dark cave,
I'd stay away from there.
The only thing I'd crave's
That my life would be spared.

But if against my will,
The road by others paved,
They dragged me up that hill...
I am by no means brave.
I would not smile or wave,
Nor gladly take the dare.
I would but cry and pray
That my life would be spared.

 When they'd had their fill
Of my rants and of my raves
They'd leave me lying still;
I am by no means brave.
My danger would be grave,
So I'd dash like a hare
And hide in an enclave
That my life would be spared.

I know because I'd waive
I am by no means brave,
But 'tis because I'm scared
That my life would be spared.


The End

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