No Lady Fair is She
O poet, your gentle lady of long ago pined
As on heartache and despair she dined,
And in her place all that remained
Was a horrid beast consumed by pain.
Simular now, this current age,
As you came a'yearning.
Your lady fair, irrevocably changed,
Upon your returning.
Cries of mercy she seldom hears.
Her heart where once you did fondly dwell,
Grown cold with frozen tears.
Her desire for another, a self sought hell.
She's just a bitch, worthy of none,
If she aproacheth you not, have no concern.
Soon enough her day will come,
And the hate in her eyes will no longer burn.
She is his bitch, no lady fair is she.
A mere vessel for his pleasure and pain.
Sooner you leave her, the better for thee,
To wash thy hands of her torrid stain.
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