-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.5 Oct 2004

It pains me to relate the tale
Of how my loins became so frail.
'twas long ago, when just like you,
I was young, and foolish too.
My misspent youth was Poulaine-free:
I'm not the man I used to be!
How spritely I did pounce in shame!
Unburden'd by the great poulaine!
Leaping gaily through the town,
O'er pointed rail and skulking browne*,
'till one morn my footing failed
And 'pon an fence I was impaled!
Ne'er again the brogueish sheath
To cling upon my underneath:
A pointed shoe now does protrude
From my mangled, dangled lewd.

*browne n. An ethnic hobo or street urchin; a stain.