THE ALDERMAN WHO WISHED HIS DAUGHTER HAD BEEN BORN A SON
Copyright 2015, Sarah Hartwell
The first verse has rattle around in my head for about 15 years! The rest of it turned up in my brain more recently. I was playing with a rhyming scheme where the last word of each line was not the main rhyming word.

her father was an alderman
a bolder man, a balder man,
with wisdom of an older man,
ambitious as a colder man,
he should have been a soldier-man.

and this brave, wise alderman,
had the hunger of a broader man.
to all he seemed a sainted man,
an oft-sculpted, oft-painted man,
inside he was a tainted man -

a bitter, but not badder man,
with secrets that made mad a man.
his daughter learned to scorn the man-
alas, she was not born a man,
and never could she mourn the man.

his daughter's scorn did burn the man,
for ever did she spurn the man,
but never did he learn, the man
to prize the girl as he'd a man,
that alderman, that leader man.

her wiles they could disarm a man,
and she had words to charm a man,
to soften, soothe and calm a man.
she also could incite a man
to ire enough to fight a man.

the daughter found a willing man,
a dirty deeds for shillings man,
who, thus paid, would kill a man.
he hunted down the elder man,
and with a blow he felled the man.

in a grave they laid the man
who'd wished his maid was made a man,
until she'd finally paid a man.
and so it was, the daughter's man
became her father's slaughterman.