The engagement

On Saturday the fifth, I will meet my bride. By side of alter, and then decide. If I should flee, or marry thee. You may think me cruel, or ungentle of man. But she’s the type, to toll a man. By cost and affect, because she can. By Sunday sixth, she will be Mrs or amiss. But me a Mister, regardless of this. Her name in tarnish, but mine varnished still. As a gentleman untamed, unmarried and with will. It will be my choice, whether we rejoice. Or my plan, that I leave her in abandon. On Friday fourth, I get a jolt. A letter brought forth, has me revolt. Miss will not see you on Saturday. She’s decided against, the matrimony. How dare she, I gasp! To leave such a man, not at the alter But by, the pen of hand.