Harley

If they cook with gas, turn the flame up, make sure its a blast, faces red as hot coals, the men you love, are longing for home, silken ones trapped, bewail their bad luck, turn pale collapse, 'phone back the most, roll in the muck, want beaten at posts, drink wine perhaps, say will have no truck, attend holy Mass, their eyes on ropes, consider them fluff, you pick from your clothes, not one of them lasts, without some cluck, some shout witch, give them a shrug.