O’er the greensward,
O’er the lea,
Came a singing milkmaid
With silver pail.

She’d a butt
Like a bus,
A toothless grin,
Voice of donkey,
Smelled of gin.

LOL....rich!!!! 
good laugh from this one, Milner.

tiko

Wide smile here, milner. 
I might tinker with the voice of donkey line.  a donkey's bray, or some slight rearrangement -- but as you know, i could well be wrong.  Still smiling, all the same.

ld

Hey, that's my nana! She swore she'd never stop working.
Very much enjoyed, Milner. Tom

milner,

the title gives it that extra kick as well

Yes, it's one of many "ass" es in the poem.

Thanks, guys. I came across this because a publisher has asked for a collection, pronto, and I'm busy digging through the dirt. Found this, polished it up a bit and hey presto. Glad it's been enjoyed.

milner

;D

Thanks for the grin, Ian.

Being raised as a country boy, the particular and ancient illusion of the idyll of sheperds and shepherdesses, milkmaids and their swains, has always amused me. But, of course, we all need and create our own illusions (delusions?), so I must be tolerant.

Cheers

milner

Add my enjoyment to that of the others.

Rick