Marlous
Marlous ran a cider press
From noon ‘til nearly dark
She wore a simple cotton dress
With an indelible laundry mark
The pattern on the dress she wore
Was a print of Guernsey Cows
Facing a Spanish Matador
On a field of cirrus clouds
Hard cider was her specialty
She bottled all she could
However, the simple reality
Was a matter of where she stood
She stood on her own principal
Of the Cider Pressers Guild
“Never let an apple fall”
“Never let a bucket go unfilled”
©9/26/09Terry Sutherland
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
