Sans frans

Weekend slave
Returns the bucket
Rocks out Chattering dishes
Drops Into the creasing knees from mitts
Sears over chard
Awaiting the plucking
The hair twisting rips
The gossipy page turner
To siphon
The allure of empty accounts
With a written list to scoop
A small prize bouncing in through
Head first on
A Willish ride
To a free country