Emma

Forget all these clowns, who come to woo you, so many with lousy plans, as many as your woes, ships blow their hooters, let them sing and blow, it's not your gowns, that makes them swoon, nor your faultless tan, you don't need a throne, in bars when shoeless, to welcome them home, nothing comes by chance, your eyes transluscent, everything's a balance, barefoot rise alone, shameless eyes on view, exude radiant tones, funny in ocean towns, the old faded boozers, places you wear a crown, you the queen of losers.