The suitor at the Door

how about something recent?  this month’s favorite so far. 

Me mother, used to tell me,

of the days before,

when a gentleman, would always call,

for a lady, at her door.

He would not sit, upon his arse,

in his car, there at the curb,

then blow his horn,

and, all the world, disturb.

And the lass, would not be running,

at some quickened pace,

for her father, would not see it,

til, he’d seen him, face to face.

And judged upon, his character,

his manners, and intent.

Then told the lad, of all the rules,

that would not, be broke, or bent.

Yes, in fact, he’d see her home,

and at, the appointed hour,

and, not a hair, or thread, misplaced,

for she was, her daddy’s flower.

Then with a look, nay, more a sneer,

he’d bid them both, goodnight.

Then once more, a final glance,

to fill them both, with fright.

Oh yes, that was, the way it be,

and me mother, told me so.

Respect and fear, the guiding force,

and, when that ended, no one knows,

for things are not, like that today,

oh no, just look around,

chivalry and self-respect,

are now rarely, ever found.

Jack Downing

Feb. 2011


About poemsandponderings

Hearth and Health are wonderful things and if you're without either such sorrow that brings So I cannot express enough thanks to my Lord and to my family and friends for the support you afford! ~Jack Downing~
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