Adios, St. V!
Talkin’ ‘Bout My Gal
Of classic beauty there’s no trace
when I behold her wretched face.
Below her brow one eyebrow bristles,
her eyes are rheumy, teeth like thistles.
Her ski-slope nose is always twitching,
and runs a little when she’s bitching.
Her chin and face don’t seem akin,
so far from matching it’s a sin.
And tangled hair, to top it all,
looks like a muddy waterfall.
But I forgive her ticks and fleas
when my pup‘s panting at my knees.