WAIL OF A BEATEN WOMANBy Smith Dawless
My war-weary Willie is back home again,
Decidely psychoneutortic.
Afflicted with strange paranoic desires
Acquired in locations exotic.
Emibttered, frustrated, he cannot relieve
His desperate nervous condition
Unless he is staging an amateur bout
With me on the floor of our kitchen.
The eminent experts explain that I must
Be patient and most understanding,
Regardless of where my anatomy's hit
Or how I get battered in landing.
So beat me, dear daddy, sixteen to the bar,
My floating ribs part from their mooring
Oh, cave in my clavicle, shatter my shin,
Assured that my love is enduring.
At least, until I can rise from the floor
And get from the cabinet shelf
A rolling pin, darling, to knock you out cold.
I've a few inhibitions myself!
Hat tip to MicroKhan
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