The Englishman was the first of loves, though now I know why not. He was stiff upper lipped, and had no reason to be so. His wellies were always muddy, and his cap forever damp. He worked the streets as a horse buggy driver and thus is how we met.
I was young, very naive, and a good little lass. I took Maman's advice that to find a beau sooner was better than to be last.
For a time I was happy to see him jostling down the cobblestone. Yet when winter lifted, and spring had sprung not once did he call. I saw not one petal nor leaf of green from him, but he always stunk of Thyme.


pg 1: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2817193