An ode for my maid.

One fine day morn

It was not yet dawn

In came the milkmaid

Had a thought she said.

Trade your car and 

Trade your land

‘What!?’ I asked the milkmaid

‘Wait’, was all she said.

Lost I was, my brain cells fought

What was that she thought?

Buy a farm, said the mailmaid

‘A puzzle it is’, I said.

Get many of ‘em – cow

And that is how

Said the milkmaid

We get ourselves paid.

I did ask her why

She blushed, ‘coz she was shy

‘I love you’, said the milkmaid

‘Me too’, was all I said.

Lets do it over

For love has got its power

Uttered she, the milkmaid

I said, ‘you’re no milkmaid, my maid’.

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Comments (3)
  • Wrath Warbone on May 3, 2011

    I heard of milk maids before. Weren’t they old timey workers from before the modern era? I think they are characters a lot in old stories. There is someting sexy about the sound of the title and the picturing of them, even when it is of the imagenation. I always picture them as pleasingly breasty, and with beautiful long hair about their shoulders. The thought of them causes a pleasing reverie. Thanks for the fun poem.

  • bedlamchaos on May 3, 2011

    fab share

  • TLRaghavan on Nov 28, 2011

    Charming!

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