In Days of Yore
In days of yore a lady's heart was won
Through chivalry and deeds of derring-do.
If swain proved false, she'd bid the knave be gone,
Adjust her cap and look for someone new.
By age fifteen a maid was in her prime,
Her window for a spouse a narrow slit.
She could not pule and pine for love sublime,
And oft as not would take what she could get.
When knight set out to win his lady fair,
Through joust or other mortal combat act,
He knew that love for him she would forswear
Lest he prevailed with manly parts intact.
Today true love is not so much a chore,
And less dramatic than in days of yore.
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