personal photo
From a white steeple;
members said, “I do.”
There is my love, my
lofty Betty-loo. In the pew
a-fore this row,
a keen lad nay
understood the word,
“no.” From a white steeple;
I lay lonely as wind’s blows.
Whistles through the pine and grail.
Ain’t much else – to tell – except hold thy gal.
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