She Will Not Budge
She will not change her mind, and she will not budge.
She is a nonconformist, who drinks beer, said my Uncle Mudge.
She is opinionated, vile, mean, and usually wrong.
It was the beginning of his “poor me” song.
She had left him at the alter when she found out he had cheated.
Saying she never wanted to see him again, her words unsweeted.
She stomped off mad, and she’s been mean as a bat caught in a fence.
He told me this, taking no guilt for his lack of common sense.
She is a rascal, a devil, a woman who cannot be rattled or taught.
He is being meaner now. He seems radical, ridiculous and overwrought.
She used to be my honey, but now she’s a woman of her own.
She is lanky and nasty, and her garden is way overgrown.
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