She had but one little heart Young and impressionable- A soft heart of wax That had great promise for love. She bequeathed it to a man Who had exceedingly hot hands And couldn't care to wear gloves As he went ahead alternately Burning and reshaping it. "Am I perfect now? " She asked Her eyes bright and expectant "No, my dear," He replied "Just a little longer and you'll be. " She smiled and kissed him happily As her heart burned and burned, Resplendent in his flaming hands, Little sufferings getting oxidized, Till one fine day, those hot hands Had nothing to burn and shape.