Playboy Poem

"HEAR ME LITTLE CHILDREN"

1, Listen to the drum beat
   My heart cries
   Little damsels hear the heat
  The damsels of my throbs,
  Cling thine heart to my words.
2.Flee to a far country
  Flee from her;
 The strange womans city
 Near her not
 Flee! Like the prodigal son
 Near not her gate.
3.Leap not for chuckle breast
 Avoid her words
 Incline not to oral
 Incline not to carnal
 Leap not through Windows
 Least you hand over your gifts,
 Your years unto the cruel
 For kings fall prey in her adornment.
4. I cry for you dearies
 I bleed because of youngsters
 My heart battered daily
 For I see nobles die daily.
In the hands of strange woman
They sale their souls to the monster.
5, Daily I bleed!
   For the souls of the noble.
   I bleed, least in vain they labour
  I bleed because kings walk on foot- bare,
 And servants ride on horses.
6, I bleed for ignobles lord over nobles
  Just, A pine of wine.
  Vanity upon vanity, says: my teacher.
  As eggs breaks: so women are, says: my mother.
7, flesh be consumed
   Thou mourned,
   As it laid on mother earth
  Said I : oh how have I hated instruction!
   Ah! How my heart despised reproof
  I wish, I would have inclined my ears,
  To the voice of academicians.
1, Listen to the drum beat
   My heart cries
   Little damsels hear the heat
  The damsels of my throbs,
  Cling thine heart to my words.
2.Flee to a far country
  Flee from her;
 The strange womans city
 Near her not
 Flee! Like the prodigal son
 Near not her gate.
3.Leap not for chuckle breast
 Avoid her words
 Incline not to oral
 Incline not to carnal
 Leap not through Windows
 Least you hand over your gifts,
 Your years unto the cruel
 For kings fall prey in her adornment.
4. I cry for you dearies
 I bleed because of youngsters
 My heart battered daily
 For I see nobles die daily.
In the hands of strange woman
They sale their souls to the monster.
5, Daily I bleed!
   For the souls of the noble.
   I bleed, least in vain they labour
  I bleed because kings walk on foot- bare,
 And servants ride on horses.
6, I bleed for ignobles lord over nobles
  Just, A pine of wine.
  Vanity upon vanity, says: my teacher.
  As eggs breaks: so women are, says: my mother.
7, flesh be consumed
   Thou mourned,
   As it laid on mother earth
  Said I : oh how have I hated instruction!
   Ah! How my heart despised reproof
  I wish, I would have inclined my ears,
  To the voice of academicians.
Written By Uche.