by Sheri Fresonke Harper

Created on: April 13, 2009

Let's bow to his lordship with his stiff collar and polished boots,

Let's curtsy to her ladyship with bustle and petticoats,

Let's shove them into a corner of a cold and rocking stagecoach,

Let's sigh and lower our eyes at their near royal approach.

Let's offer our hand and twirl them around the decorated ball room.

Let's flirt behind a fan and get too heated and need to swoon.

Let's ride out on horseback, side saddle after a fox,

Let's pile up the herrings, fried tomato and suffer chicken pox.

Their rapier sharp wit is rivaled by their handy swords

But you know as well as I do, the ladies always get their lords.

A gentle hand upon his sick brow, a strong chest against to cry,

Lead only to a gently kiss and marriage by and by.

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