Blessed is he who knows his limitations. |
Victim of Love With pity view the hapless swain Once Aphrodite’s favor blessed With promises now sought in vain Of true love failed to manifest. Sweet honeyed words his little goose He labored mighty to ensnare At dénouement she slipped the noose And vanished into empty air. For full three weeks he plied her ear With sweet entreaties, coos and pleas. But no reaction did he hear Save hollow echoes on the breeze. So churns him now his fevered mind His last discourses with his prey Hoping soon that he may find Some misspoke words that made her stray. Lush compliments he freely gave Expensive presents, meals and toys Of future prospects he would rave Prosperity’s abundant joys. Nevermore for her the drudge Of labor’s tedious routine Not a finger would she budge To run her house or keep it clean. All decisions he would make No woe or care her life defile Each blessed day she would awake With nought to do but make him smile. And just to keep up her morale Eternal fealty he’d sworn His full labors connubial Once she with kids his home’d adorn. A little Mary, Mike and Moe Perhaps a James and Phillip too Up to a dozen he’d bestow Before her fertile days were through. Such rosy vistas did he paint Of future comforts, games and fun He could not see a sole complaint Or worry such that made her run. Spurned despite his motives, flawless One night while drinking deep the cup In bottle depths he found his solace And vowed the fair sex to give up. Fickle faithless and unjust Dames never know just what they want A victim now of betrayed trust He’d nevermore be so gallant. To lofty peaks he'd next repair Monastic life for him the cure Amid the clouds and frosty air he'd ne'r be bothered by Amour. But as he swilled the final dregs What strutting past did he espy? A very shapely pair of legs In skin-tight skirt above the thigh. The clouds disperse, His spirit soars He knows that love cannot be bought. But money works just fine for whores You do your best with what you've got! Fin. |