Green, green, is my lady's face
If ever friends become common place
Should I converse with others too long
She hangs her head in selfish disgrace.
When another comes along
And she catches me glancing wrong
Her attention then becomes quite keen
With her grip becoming doubly strong!
Green, green, is my lady's sheen
And you may just consider it mean
That I would elate to see her changed
To that covetous shade of pea green.
You see, she's a wee bit strange
In fact I think she may be deranged
For, she purposely ruins all my moods
I just can't wait until we're estranged!
Green, green, and terribly prude
And a great cook if you like stale food
She's always asking, "Is she the one?"
To names my conversation alludes.
She seems to weigh a whole ton
And withdraws if I ever have fun
Then, should I ever come home at dawn
She makes me recall the things I've done.
Green, green, is that devil's spawn
Who always makes me feel withdrawn
And when she pressures me to excess
I close my eyes and wish she was gone.
Well, I really should confess
My lady is....."Lady Loneliness"
And only Father Time will attest
To her who lays my lady to rest.
Timothy I. Brumley