Finger of Fate
Women of wit are treacherous tools,
Ever fatefully embracing idiot fools;
When pleasure waves a finger, it's never too late,
To enjoy the indulgence of the finger of fate.
To tread through briars and hedges of thorn,
Where whimsy's shrewd fickle feet are borne;
And taste with delight the pleasures of pain,
Where everything's lost, and there is no gain.
Whenever a woman of wit should arrive,
Gather your wits to stay alive;
For you know she’ll gather her skirts to chase,
And a fickle finger of fate might just save your face.
For Gwen's Tongue Twister contest
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