A Poison Tree

 

I was pictur’d with a friend;
I sold our love, our love did end.
I was pictur’d with her foe;
I sold it not, our love did grow.

 

And it irk’d me that our glee
Did not earn a cent for me;
So I sold it after all,
So the redtops came to call.

 

And we were, to my delight,
In the news both day & night,
And my love, whose teeth did gnash,
Sold her story, for more cash,

 

And the Star & Mirror bid
For the tale of what was hid.
And for what I did confess
I am a Love Rat in the press.