Amy with her petal skin and hair of liquid gold
Has come from distant Liverpool to join our little fold,
And with her sister Isabel of dark and striking looks
Has brought along a library of magazines and books.
Amy with her silv’ry laugh and Isabel so sly
Have sat with me upon the seat and let the moments fly.
Amy with her pretty nose and teeth of pearly white,
Isabel with teasing voice and glance of sheer delight,
Have taken us for rambling walks and gathered berries black
Amy with her prayer book and Isabel with hers
Have walked us down to church ‘twixt banks of flowered furze.
Amy with her husky voice and soft, o so soft cheek
Has whispered they are going to stay at Erystain a week.
I do not care for Isabel, her plans don’t worry me,
But Amy sits beneath the moon, her head against my knee.
And as I stroke her waving hair, and as to kiss I lean
I clean forget she’s twenty three and I am seventeen.