Colours

There once was a boy with three ears, he was white and well known to his peers. To the south side of town where the pigment was brown.. they could care but a lady brought shears. It turned out that all manners of style got the better of folks and their bile. Never mind the third ear it is colour we fear said the one they called homophile. But the horses, he said, do the same! It is not the old mare that is lame but the Gelding that's gray whom we chased far away there is nothing we'd look at as shame. Just this morning I saw a small lad, he was wearing a pirate's eye pad. But his smile touched my soul eyes like hot burning coal, I will save him or surely go mad.