My Poem To Her Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh merrily we drink to rhyme
And in the sad courts to waste our time:
Singing our shanties red-nosed
Akimbo,
Down in the shanties of the legless assemblage:
She says you love her with a wink,
But all you say to her is
Drink, drink, drink:
Because if she was with you then she’d
Sing, like a bird stuffed in a cage
Weeping-
Then you’d have to kick her out,
Manhandle her tresses, sock her pout
Until, trill and lined like a fish won for a game,
All you’d garner from her would be
Shame, shame, shame;
Because, her body is beautiful, scarless and
Young,
And what she does she is free to do it with
Ten fingers and tongue, tongue, tongue:
This is just a job anyways,
And I can do it with wink;
And just as easily reflect to the sky,
And swinging my good arm, sloshing my beer
Calling her the same as my other old deer;
For my rhyme has no favorites, no flight plans tonight,
She might as well be a leggy stewardess on a
Early morning red-eyed flight;
And just the same as the girls on their bicycles of
Game, I’ll rhyme her with a wink,
And end my poem to her with
Drink, drink, drink.