The lady,
She is wise,
Rosy,
Complies,
Cosy,
But good god,
The lady is dozy.
She eats with her hands,
Her humour is bland,
Her laughter is canned,
Her emotion is ham.
Excuse me
The lady,
She is neat,
Friendly,
Meek,
Heady,
But my lord,
The woman's deadly.
She tends to ride side saddle,
Floats without a paddle,
She often will straddle
All that will addle.
But alas,
Though the lady has dangers,
Needs warning of strangers,
The lady has conquered,
The art of my heart.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 8:51 AM UTC
The lady,
She is wise,
Rosy,
Complies,
Cosy,
But good god,
The lady is dozy.
She eats with her hands,
Her humour is bland,
Her laughter is canned,
Her emotion is ham.
Excuse me
The lady,
She is neat,
Friendly,
Meek,
Heady,
But my lord,
The woman's deadly.
She tends to ride side saddle,
Floats without a paddle,
She often will straddle
All that will addle.
But alas,
Though the lady has dangers,
Needs warning of strangers,
The lady has conquered,
The art of my heart.
A light hearted effort, with humour and love :)
Request permission to use this poem