Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,661
The sylph Serena rises, rubs her eyes.
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies
Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,
Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl
Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.
The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,
Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.
It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,
Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,
Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.
Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.
Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace
A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate
Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends
And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.
He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into
Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".
She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,
Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms,
And lovely round Bruce Froemming tones, "You, worm,
Are OUT! Now take those sleazy fingers home!"
The satyr stood and tried to comb
His fingers through his tousled hair,
But snagged them in the twisty curls. There
He stood, hand tangled in his mane, manhood
Horizontally inclined - less refined would call it "wood"
For a jealous stallion would surely weep
At such a sight. Our sylph, afright, did peep—
Well, shriek, would be more accurate—then sighed
"I could take that pony for such a steamy ride
But I must play the part of innocence personified.
That is sylph's role, you know. I see your pride
Is justified, young man! Yon object is
The satyr hunched behind the curtain spies
Her naked skin, her curves, her silken hair.
His thought is bent on lechery. Beware,
Fair nymph, the smirking, lurking, monstrous churl
Whose sullen visage makes maids want to hurl
Some sharpened objects, let's say hearts, at him
Revealed to the world, moral wrong of sin.
The simple Serena, rise forth your ways
And turn your face to one who obeys,
Who waits for she who lovingly guides
strike missiles—foreign targets far and wide.
It leaves her lonely, sad to say. Her heart,
And her sundry other womanly parts,
Ache for want of one who can complete her.
Who unlocks this puzzle that is sweet, sir,
Consummates fire in an airy nest?
The maid's heart pounds upon her supple breast.
Poor girl, adjunct from her undying love,
She cries "Free him!" to the heavens above.
Alas! The satyr hails from another place—
Far Rockaway, in fact. His New York grace
A Kansas girl cannot appreciate.
Bagels baffle her, she can't help but hate
Long Island tea, the prim, smug wit of Friends,
For which our doleful satyr begs amends
And schemes to sweep her off her feet, like dust.
He's much maligned; he's not all sweat and lust.
He tries the subtle art of pitching woo,
But his slick fingers send the pitch into
Her dugout, where it bounces 'round and slips
To settle loosely on her "buxom hips".
She smiles a knowing smile and, suddenly
Angry, and with no hint of subtlety,
Tells the satyr in no uncertain terms,
And lovely round Bruce Froemming tones, "You, worm,
Are OUT! Now take those sleazy fingers home!"
The satyr stood and tried to comb
His fingers through his tousled hair,
But snagged them in the twisty curls. There
He stood, hand tangled in his mane, manhood
Horizontally inclined - less refined would call it "wood"
For a jealous stallion would surely weep
At such a sight. Our sylph, afright, did peep—
Well, shriek, would be more accurate—then sighed
"I could take that pony for such a steamy ride
But I must play the part of innocence personified.
That is sylph's role, you know. I see your pride
Is justified, young man! Yon object is
