In the Shadow of the Jig – Hour Eleven

A hand on the small of my back

A handsome lover gone off track

And what he had yet to understand

Was that all the while through the smallest crack

His heartbroken love waited to attack.

 

One night too many left alone,

She’d donned her cloak and left the home

Crept along by the brimey foam

Getting herself battered and blown

Down to the inn that she’d been shown.

 

His hand fell away from the place it had found,

As the handsome lover hit the ground,

Confused I had spun around,

My coy smiles turned to frowns

As without a single sound

His heartbroken love had served to confound.

 

It had all happened in the shadow of the jig,

She’d acted mean and smooth and quick

Oh, for it had taken grit

To end this heart-wrenching conflict

With a slice in the stomach, right to the pit.

 

Now never let it be said

That no tears were shed

When suddenly he bled

But not from his lover as she fled

Right back home to their marital bed

Still stained by the deed – bright and red.

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