I named her "Ne'er-Do-Well"
She belongs in the Ruby Grounds
Cuts uncharted waters of the hell
Traced by mad three-headed hounds
Weighing 'bout three million pounds
Light as a feather when the wind is growling
She is still surviving, hoping to become a rose
When finally arrives in place she will be thriving in
Her Ruby Grounds, where seen by none, hoping to be found