I know you mean the best for me,
But why is there this urgency?
If once you really had the time
To praise my attributes in rhyme,
I wonder if procrastination
Could truly slow a consummation.
And praising breasts a century
Ignores how shriveled they would be,
And what you mean by “all the rest”
Is really one part, I protest.
But, Andrew, though you may be right,
I didn’t take my pill last night,
And that’s not Winged Time you hear;
I fear it’s Daddy hurrying near.
Go home, and if you still feel randy,
Your fist, you know, is always handy.