Oh, where have all the good girls gone
From centuries ago? With
Manners primed and grace refined,
Humble compassion all aglow?
Where have all these good girls gone,
To leave such mired furrow?
Why did all the good girls die
And leave men thirsty hence? Legends
Writ Dickens, beyond sick hens
Roosting, temporary, since.
Why did all these good girls die,
Replacements worth a pence?
Where did all these foul girls come from,
Who swear and smoke and screw? Their
Manners crass, gaining mass
In flesh and witless crew.
Where did all these foul girls come from,
Who chase away the true?
To where did all the gentlemen fly
And escape these helpless dopes? Each
Dumb broad with an unscrupulous sod
Spend time lost in gropes.
To where did all the gentlemen fly,
And with them all our hopes?
Am I left in this uncultured rabble
To sift through broken skulls? To
Scour the beach in vain to reach
Some glimmer of virtuous Belles?
Am I left alone in this uncultured rabble,
A feminicity of Hells?
Morning's Early Dark 