Shy-eyed lady in forest glen,
Lovely daughter of a beauty blend,
Of a quiet mouth and lips of charming,
Sweet whisperings of a fairy tale yarning,
With angel wings and slender feet,
Storied eyes that go deeper than deep,
With marriage written on the tip of the tongue,
And a climb to the highest ‘til the very last rung,
A trip to the altar with the one so enchanted,
With a whip out of sight and a kiss implanted,
She said “I do” with a gargantuan smirk.
“Now it’s time to go home and get to work.”
Wedding nights are for heart thumping games,
But the ensuing days she clamps about the chains.
Then with her whip she arises from her throne,
Shouting at me to get up and clean her home.
Beware of the shy-eyed ladies
With smiles so sweet.
They are sly-eyed whippers
From Despotic Street.