I just saw this bit of something in my desk, and though, wow, either I was crazy when I wrote this or... !
My name is May Mary Mabelle
I was sired in a Saddlebred stable
I wash chamber pots and brocolli tops
and sup alone at the table
When I was a girl of three or of four
the height of a sapling Maple,
I saw my mom die, writher and wryth
now they say I'm mentally unstable
My heart's a sore and the world's a bore
so I drink ale whenever I'm able
they say if I wed it'd clear up my head
but it's lofty and false as a fable
for no man would marry what no man can carry
a miss who still sleeps in a cradle.