Coat

O...it wasn't tiger,
And it wasn't goat.
But spotted it was,
In the lines of a coat.

So often I wore it,
Down around the mill.
Fleeced-lined it was,
To keep out the chill.

I just can't remember,
How it got to be mine.
But it fit at the shoulders,
And its texture was fine.

I felt like a lady,
As I strolled round the town.
But I knew in my thinking,
It was a regular hand-down.

But I stood with the rich,
That went to the ball.
And knew it was better,
Than have nothing at all.


E.P. 1908 - 1989