Love’s Labour Lost Poem by Sidi Mahtrow

T’was just a simple wedding
That led to the misunderstanding.
Seems the blade had sparked
The widow’s interest on a lark.

Wealthy she was, it was said,
Could buy and sell, many times over the cad.
But it was love he confessed
Not the money, she possessed.

“I believe you not” is what she claimed,
“Then give it to charity, ” he exclaimed.
“Never, my husband (ex that he is)
Worked hard to the gold amass
And I shall never be without
Even if you support me, there’s no doubt.”

Then give the hoard of Midas’ gold
To your daughter who is both young and bold.
T’will keep it in the family
As you and I shall see.

And so she did as was suggested
And here the issue could have rested,
Except for a small detail that must be known -
He wed the daughter, not the crone.

This might be the end of this tale of wedded bliss,
But vengeance was hers, whom he never kissed.
Buy a revolver and shoot the two
Was what she intended to do
.
But wait, there’s a better way
To get revenge, he’ll rue the day!

Blessings she showered on them most profuse,
Then packed up her parrot
And moved in with them,
Silly gander and his goose.