With tears glistening in my eyes.
I celebrate my comeuppance.
For when we rolled in the hay.
We came together as one!

Sire of my bairn.
Your identity to him l shall bury.
For you flew from me like a raving wolf.
And never turned an eye.

I am deaf to my tormenting harridan.
For l have logs plugged in my auricles.
Society will name him a whoreson.
But he is my Jameson.

Conceived in flaming love.
So shall his nascency.
Tender, shall my kin be with him.
For till death, his feet l shall shoe.

I will gladly knit him warm prevarications.
Of his tragic posthumous birth.
This l shall make,
To fence in my despisal.
And his laughter you shall know not!

*#Dear Sire of my bairn, his laughter you shall know not!*