Courted Wit

In true blogger fashion (does that even mean anything?), I'm going to share a poem I wrote. Hopefully that one reader who stumbles across this blog years later will enjoy it.

Courted Wit

A chap addressed his lady muse,
“Oh joy that I should bear such news.
Thy father bid me late last night,
That we should wed at dawn’s first light.”

The dame looked in the young chap’s eyes,
“Good sir, I will not hear your lies!
My father, he died yesterday.
I bid you do the same today.”

The chap replied, “It pains me so,”
That you think me a man so low.”
To take advantage of a maid,
And think it right to serenade.”

“Good sir,” said she, “it’s obvious,
That you don’t take me serious.
Your serenade is plain as day.
I beg you now, please go away.”

“But lady, please, I beg you so,
To listen to my tale of woe.
My love for you, it knows no bounds.
Please join me now in wedding vows.”

“Oh sir! I feel I must protest.
Your lofty goals of wedding bliss.
You dream of souls who ache apart.
I dream that you will just depart.

Most men, they lack a certain sense.
Tis no small stretch to call them dense.
Dear sir, you are a man apart:
An ass who’s put before cart.”

“Oh miss, your words, they strike my cœur.
I cannot bear, please say no more.
Tis plain as day, I fear I see.
My love shall not return to me.

But gentle miss, one last request,
Before you reach inside my chest.
I only ask that you be kind,
And keep my heart til end of time.”

The lady pondered with great care.
“I fear I’ve judged in haste and err.
Good sir, tis true your love’s concrete?
Am I the fool to be discrete?

Then truly let us be away,
And marry at the light of day.
Oh sir, that we would happy wed,
And live in love until we’re dead.”

“My lady makes me truly glad
To lift a heart that once was sad.
Oh hark! Is that another maid?
Good dame, I must bid you good day.”