a Lost son & a Faithful wife
A lost son Young lad, over your loss... I have gone mad, my ill-fated cointoss... The times a'sad, my will dated not by glory, only gloss... and thus, ends my story now covered in moss... .... A faithful wife Stay your blade... Away you fade, won't you stay? Even if farewells were bade, and our ways astray... I made a call, a heavily priced fall, this autumn's fall... Could a soul shed tears if asunder'd? Would a sole face fears that thunder'd? A mist surrounds any gist... A twist of fate; would but arrive a gust, before next August...