Little tiny precious vote,
Underneath my overcoat,
Snug and warm against my heart,
You and I will have to part.
I must caste you to the horde,
With your little wooden sword,
And your hopeful marching song;
Little vote of mine be strong.
Should our happy cause be dashed,
And your wooden sword be smashed,
Come back, dear beloved vote,
Dream inside my overcoat.
Michael Leunig
No comments:
Post a Comment