A Romantic's Lament
As a ROMANTIC, ladies, I used to feel just swell,
by Dennis Lambert
But now, to tell the truth, I simply feel like hell.
Every line tried and true, she already seems to know,
And now I know, t’is open season on this Romeo!
When I say, “My lady, let me sweep you off your feet, ”
She coldly offers broom and pan and says, “JUST sweep! ”
When I say I’ll be your knight in shining armor,
She sneers, “Polish first these pots and pans, you silly charmer! ”
In the moonlight I appear beneath her balcony,
And I have with me my sweetly flowing poetry.
“For you, a rose, my love, as sweet and fragrant as thee, ”
“Why is it with every rose, I get a prick, ” says she.
“ ‘Gather ye rose buds while ye may’, life goes by so quickly! ”
“O, cut the crap, ” says she, “just climb the vine and do me! ”
I cry “You are the moon and sun and stars-my passion! ”
“Must you always, ” yawns she, “proceed in such a fashion? ”
“O where have the maidens gone, where has innocence run? ”
“Pure maidens? ” she laughs, “you knights have done them every one.”
I say, “Without LOVE, between us there a chasm”
“That may be, ” says she, “but who needs love to orgasm? ”
I say, “This bond between us, I know it’s strong.”
“Five knights behind you, ” she sighs “the line is getting long!
Why can’t you squelch this talk of love before you start a-mating?
I really hate to keep those men and those horses waiting.”
I reflected, “With women there are wins and there are loses, ”
I knew about the knights but, damn, not about the horses.”
So to my faithful steed as I galloped off to county bars,
I declared “My love, you are the sun, the moon, the stars.”