When Sarah Bosworth Saw a Rake

When Sarah Bosworth saw a Rake,

Everyone thought she would break,

For the debutante was for her own sake,

What Sarah did made everyone say Grace.

Sarah held her hand on her bosom

(Big and buxom it was indeed stupendous.

The envy of the whole masquerade hall-

Enough of her bosom back to the ball)

Sarah held her hand on her bosom

And cried, "Oh my lord! What a handsome."

She fluttered her eyes and muttered to herself,

"I'll sure be a sinner tonight" she said.

Aside to you I'll tell about her,

Sarah Bosworth was no ordinary girl.

She was the Duchess of Frankworth,

But Oxfordshire preferred her as theirs.

She milled in the crowd fussing away,

Fanning herself as if it was the hot summer's day.

Her flustered self made her look prettier,

Said Mrs.Pipeton, the widow from Croodia.

The sadness of this story is yet to come,

When everyone noticed Sarah as a beautiful dove.

Everyone I said? But not the 'one',

The Rake alas! had noticed no one.

Unchastened by the attention she never got,

She declined every dancing partner, My Gad!

Her card was filled, her bookings undone,

She paraded for the handosme Rake to come.

The Rake was a pretty chivalrous lad,

Who’s being to the war and back from the mad.

He survived the army and came back to town,

"For a perfect match", his mother recounts.

Now why didn't the Rake notice her?

Sarah asked herself thousand times over.

She made her dress and showed herself,

More the merrier she thought to herself.

"It's pretty darn impossible!" said the ton,

"For the Rake not to notice her now"

She hurried to make her glitter and Oh Love!

A king's ransom was hanging on her brow.

The Rake took no notice but sipped his gin,

As if the whole wide world revolved around his drink,

He leaned on the wall and observed the crowd,

With no interest but a casual frown.

Sarah Bosworth was no clown,

She wanted the Rake, secure and sound.

She stomped through the hall and asked so loud,

"Sir! Would you care for a swirl around?"

The ton gasped and clutched their bosoms

(But none compared to the Bosworth's buxom)

"Oh! What a scandal!" they muttered aghast,

"For a woman to ask for a Rake's hand."

My good people! there's more to come,

Of course! Sarah’s downfall is yet to come

When the Rake politely declined the offer,

Bowed his head low down and muttered,

"A lady like you I'm pretty sure,

Will catch the hearts and make gentlemen suffer.

But lady Bosworth pardon me, my manners,

I'm no gentleman but a Rake with a stammer-"

No, I'm not done, he did say stammer,

The ton was surprised and some did snicker.

But the rest of the sentence is yet to be written,

Hear me! He did say more than stammer.

"But a Rake with a stammer in my heart,

For a quiet love in the village so far.

Rose is her name, prim and proper.

And there she is my rose, my valor!"

Sarah Bosworth stood still on her ground,

Her crest was fallen (Literally! Oh but what a sight I bound)

Her lips quivered as her eyes fluttered,

I've never seen such palpitations, I offer.

She fell like a withered rose on the ground,

The spinsters Ooohed and the singles Aahed.

Sarah Bosworth's downfall arrived

With a mighty crash on the debutante ground.

So ends my story but it's not yet done,

Sarah did marry a gentleman in the ton.

The people whisper she asked him for the hand,

But, yet I believe none withstand,

Sarah Bosworth was ASKED for her hand!

Malsha Walgamage©

7 August 2011