I Can'T Marry a Poet

A poet lord can't stand a poet lord My belle can't always feed on muse In the chase of wanting many an award Allowing her snub kitchen for writing excuse Going most days feeding on junk A poet lord can't stand communication My mouth is shut down to set up my mind Though no time for pleasing fornication Cos artistic altar's oath entwines lines signed That all day long, each heartily lives a good drunk Poets at a turn in time, each would become a nanny Taking up the children's care with pity Except those times, visitation parades granny Everyone would love doing great going witty How on earth can we watch our futures' stillness! Poets are crazy, emotional switch dribbles wit Hosting love making to seconds notes taking Build up frame to make none foreseen omit Really love doing the titles to get table shaking In its own outstanding research illness I can't marry a poet, but can have her as a daughter To make heiress survived from my bleeding pen And roast on my behalf wrongs I slaughtered In her own fare having been nurtured in zen Young lord knows what boost speedily I can't marry a poet, may be have one a son Whose morales been a heir would grow wings And soar to make moon face the sun On an emotional transparent's keyboard swings Young bard's twilight inking classical keys greedily