Baptising The Hemi Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

It is a godforsaken shame
that I have found no proper name
for my new sweet with her big heart
who is a real piece of art.

So, early yesterday I thought
that all this fretting is for naught.
And no one tells the man with Hemi
that choice of name has to be Emmy.

As of today, my love will answer
of course not to the name of Dancer,
but any beauties, female gender
who talk to me with rather tender

and down to earth soprano tones
(this kind of talk goes to my bones)
may have a claim to put her name
into the ring for this great game.

Depending on the week, or day
and whether, also where I play
she will respond to any name
but will remain always the same.

The final judge? It must be me
my Hemi is, of course, a She
she wants to, daily go on trips
and reads my wishes off my lips.

Oh that a girl within my dreams
could be like that, but no, it seems
that equal rights have put asunder
relationships, there and down under.

They are concerned with just veneer
and wallow in their selfish fear
my Hemi takes me for a ride
but always hovers by my side.