Polly's Vocation (Poetry)

(To be read with a Welsh accent)

She’s no better than she should be
she’s a baggage to be sure
the morals of an alley cat
all flirty cheap allure

Tucks her skirt into her knickers
when she paddles in the brook
local lads throw down their pennies
for to get a better look

She has breasts like goose-white pillows
where the farmboy lays his head
she has dreams above her station
to be wooed and someday wed

She’s had countless one-night sweethearts
loving every one in turn
knowing Heaven’s in the moment
and her soul is set to burn

She’s the focus of their gossip
all those chapel-going wives
with their tut-tut-tutting voices
and Jehovah-sharpened knives

She’s a brace of brown-faced babies
and another on the way
it is scandalous and shameful
how she romps among the hay

She’s a harlot plain and simple
and her nature’s no mean side
giving favours to the menfolk
no attempt to duck or hide

but accepts the blame as wicked
and her crime’s a life-long trial
soaking up illicit kisses
treats the vicar to a smile