They should learn how to talk,
When they sees one another—just for you,
They should dry the coals and bury the ashes
Like half of us, so strength shall be sooth for you.
But before you were born by them,
Before they met at the red horn den—At scarflett.
You were told to be born by the meek with dark-hair,
Long bold ties, dry cleaned shirt, tucked cardigan
And ones who goes to bed at half five,
Life would be so boring! don’t you think?—but they
Would cherish you; for them did not.
When they are gone, those two old misled birds,
Learn by them not the row nor the rift; they held,
Stand above all their misfortune and bless your heir.