A Cupid-Is-Tic-Heart. Poem by Michael Gale

Chug a lug-chug a-lug....
Nothing like the smitten bug.

We thirst for love, one love-embroiled...
From our work, of earnest-toiled.

Cupid's arrows, cling to, start...
From our one-enamored part.

Chamber's blood did rise and boil...
Fro' thy jealousy, paid as spoil.

This wounded heart, did break and crack...
Wished I did, that You'd, came back.

Feelings fed of a ruptured part...
Loneliest be-this punctured heart.

Pain now no longer, teases me...
Love hath hap ply, over taken-ye.