My mistress's guys were really not much fun:
Carlo, she said, “shed tears of fear in bed”;
and so did Dwight, who “stank and weighed a ton”;
Cliff’s “hairs were wires”; Jack’s “fires too soon went dead”.
Sid “spoke of Moses unasked, late at night”,
and Beau “brought roses that were dead four weeks”;
and one or two were “really too uptight”,
or had “pig breath”, or “bony pock-marked cheeks”.
Too many were “too weak”, their minds “too slow”,
like “too-sick Chad” whose “boredom was profound”,
and Grant, who “liked to watch the flowers grow”,
or “distressed Ben”, whose “dumbness was renowned”.
And me – “by heaven, you were losing hair!”
(From thinking that she’d not swap me for Pierre.)