Is there something else you want to tell me, sir? You say you are a musician, yet I distinctly recall that on evenings around the campfire you’ve always strummed off-key and your songs are always unrecognizable to your fellow players. You tell me that you are a skilled horseman, but I have known you to fall off every mount you ever met and the way you’re always sneezing makes me pretty sure you’re more a specimen of the allergic type than a cowboy of any real sort. As for your claims of being a king of the romantics, they strike me as far more hopeful than strictly factual, considering that you cannot read, write or dance, never remember to comb your hair or wash your face, and are cowed into stammering and foot-shuffling when actually in the presence of anyone even slightly ladylike.
Forgive me, then, if I tend to take your claims with a certain jaded skepticism. I am fairly certain I do not want to listen to you bash away on your two-stringed guitar, to watch you topple out of the saddle the instant your horse makes a move, or to wait for you to wrestle up the courage to make small talk while I dream of my escape from your company. And if you should persist in attempting to convince me that you are the master of the Wild West, I shall be reduced to the expedient of dispatching you with a hefty branch of mesquite laid across your noggin, stuffing you into a handy gunny sack and slinging you over the back of a mule headed toward some terribly remote corner of the prairie.
Other than that, though, I suppose I don’t mind your company. A girl can’t be too choosy out here on the frontier if someone offers her his family fortune and she has her eye on a particular set of acres for ranching. Business is business, after all.On Closer Examination
A fella whose flaws were prolific
And both manners and taste quite horrific
Filled my soul with alarm
But still had one great charm–
His inheritance, to be specific.
You probably just described a great percentage of pre-20th century marriages…He’s not fun, pretty, or smart, but he has a house and an income, and I don’t want to be an Old Maid… 😉
The man obviously has Sparks in his eyes. Must be love.
Wink-wink! My Sparkler is clearly more than a little crazy to love me.
That bit of verse could be the jingle for SugarDaddie.com
Har-har! Hope they’ll give me a call soon; I could use the sugar. 😉
What fun … done with grace and verve and wit! Thanks for the smile. 🙂 XO
I would’ve suspected my own sweetheart of being capable of writing this one about *me*, if I’d had any money that made me worth the gold-digging. 😉
Gold-digging turns up fools’ gold more often than gold. Rhythmic little rhyme, my golden doll of poetry…
Always a delight to give you some enjoyment, my kindly dear! 😀