Abiyar first order poems from here up to Tracy

We stand by her ashes, she made us swear at the ferry, laid down with her Sash, she cut a fine dash, dismissed worries said be merry, life is only a flash, thank God for her tirades, what it is not to worry, as she comes close to the grave, whirr of the morphine backlash, moans from a yellow reverie, softer than any drum crash, we're all bound to rave, who refuses tributaries, when we're on parade, once as fired as Potash, Orange kids without a penny, cheeks pale as potato mash, we wave her off the jetty.