Explore "Lament" by Dylan Thomas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When I was a windy boy and a bit / And the black spit of the chapel fold, / (Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women), / I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a telltale tit, / I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled / Ninepin down on the donkeys' common, / And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed / Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,