[Poems by Tabb in] Father Tabb | ||
A FINE PENALTY
He offered but a poor defence,
That advocate of mine;
And yet, despite the evidence,
The penalty was fine.
That advocate of mine;
And yet, despite the evidence,
The penalty was fine.
233
The greater mystery it is
The more we think upon it,
That 'tis the oldest style of Miss
That wants the youngest bonnet.
The more we think upon it,
That 'tis the oldest style of Miss
That wants the youngest bonnet.
Nor is it levity of mind
That leads to such selection,
For 'tis the fruit we often find,
Of much mature reflection.
That leads to such selection,
For 'tis the fruit we often find,
Of much mature reflection.
[Poems by Tabb in] Father Tabb | ||