Saturday, 27 April 2013

Vikingstromba (Day 15)

My longest poem, it seems.


I will tell you a tale of three sisters
A tale of sisters three
Hortensia, Rosalina and Brunhilda;
As muscular as lasses can be.

Green-eyebrowed Hortensia ws the oldest
Liked duckies, colour and authority
Her charisma, it made her the boldest
And her pink and her yellow; she worked in Politics.

Brown (or blonde?) haired Brunhilda came next
The strongest of all; the simplest dressed;
She took on the town with her gym-drawing prowess
Down to earth, she'd lift weights to pass by the dull hours.

And last, oh the last, youthful pretty Rosalina.
When a Lord came to town, nay, he could not resist her.
Pink-haired, a great kisser, she'd flirt and she'd schmooze. 
The young Lord's moustache, made the pretty lass swoon.

Over the days the young lady found love.
Sadly, she found, he was not the only one.
Many men she met, and found, that she wanted them all
When she found a small bump, she didn't know whose it was.

The two older sisters, what were they to do?
They kept Rosie inside, and the Lord they shooed.
Hortensia ascended the government ladder.
Brunhilda, the runner, got faster and faster.

And at last Rosalina realised she'd been wrong
When her offspring turned 2, she got her a job.
A CEO now, she's fulfilled and she's rich;
And she loves her wee boy: everything fits!

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