Is It Poetry - Drinking Wine

Drinking Wine;
Hide the children, she
is coming home again.
I lost the cart,
behind the horse, the carrot
there still dangles.
All those gentleman,
most affable
and they in vain,
search for their father.
Scent of pine is every where,
the sisters help us hide it.
Mountains rising every where.
No longer do we wish too play,
while our speech,
has been left thus neglected
and quite slurred.

Is It Poetry

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