Saturday, February 23, 2008

Unfinished symphony

Don’t let your top lip curl, my dear.
I thought it right you knew
I’ve found another girl, my dear,
Who’s lovelier than you.
She’s loyal and she’s dutiful
And never in a mood.
Above all else, she’s beautiful,
A mass of pulchritude.

Oh do not throw the delph, my love,
Lay down that plate and cup.
You’ll only cut yourself, my love,
When you’ve to pick them up.
I thought perhaps you’d bid me well
And thank me from the heart.
For several years you did me well
But now it’s time to part.

Oh please put down the knife, my sweet,
I hate the sight of blood.
So does my future wife, my sweet,
So loving and so good.
We’ve often shared the same pursuits,
I’m sure you will concur,
But when I judge your attributes,
You’re not as good as her.

Oh lay aside that gun, my child,
Although it’s filled with blanks.
For then you’d be undone, my child

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