Ode To Monogamy
ODE TO MONOGAMY
As I was going to St. Ives
I met a man with twenty wives.
Old and wizened, hair snow white;
Frail and bent, a sorry sight.
With scalding tongues, his twenty spouses
Followed him with moans and grouses.
I asked him, “Sir, how old are you?”
He said, “Next week I’m twenty-two.”
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