The ideal woman is one who's willing
         to strip naked with me
in her parents house
and roast potatoes in their fireplace.

I haven't found Her yet.
Then again, what do I have to give once
I meet her? I've lost track of my heart
because I've given so much of it away
               to music, gaiety and seals.
My eyes have been worn many times by my brothers
and my hands were given to High Hat; a horse
who wanted to learn the secrets of poker.

Words are for amateurs!
Maybe I'll just skip over to her and shove my tongue down
       Her throat.
I'd let her caress my shoes, run her fingers through
          my wig, lick
my tie... and then perhaps She can squeeze
               my honking cane.

That should distract her enough so she doesn't
suspect I have nothing of value left to give.

What would She say to me?
Would She want to hear beautiful music from my harp?
I'd have to borrow some of her hair for the strings!
What would She eat besides kippered herring?
I know a divine place we could go for dinner.
You can roast potatoes by a fireplace there. Then we could go
to a museum and look at paintings such as The Burning Giraffe
and paint mustaches on everything. I'll bring the bucket of black paint
I keep in my coat jacket along with the candle burning at both ends!