Liza Rose

Where pray tell is Liza Rose

That child for sure doth tarry

By mire and wooded glade

Akin to gale she blows

The devil she would marry

Hitch'in skirts to vault a gate

Adorned in Sunday best

Emerald sheen in furies eyes

A parson's patience she would test

A wicked child of no dispute

There's none as willed as she

Muck n mud from hat to boot

The loss of us that filly be

Colecting pebbles in her piny

Black as cinder dust her hands

Sailing leaf down sewer and ally

There's no remit to dire demands

There's none as bold nor brazen

Improper temperament has she

Sure as eggs is eggs

That lass will be the death of me

lex ?04