Diana, The Huntress

Poem By Richard Roberts

It would almost be nirvana to spend hours of my day,
after walking through a sultry savanna,
to see and hear the huntress, Diana,
performing with one hand on her piana,
wearing nothing but a gray and white polka-dot bandanna.
In the other hand she is holding a banana from Havana,
and waving and smiling at me.
It is easy to see that she is no he.

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A man, to live with the proper hue,
Must have a good wife
And a keen knife to cut through
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Oh what a joy
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She is all that I wnat her to be.
She is simple.
She is bright. She has style.