The Taming of the Shrew

I once fancied myself a petruchio And set out to tame myself a shrew There existed a Katherina. A dame beautiful but crazy and wild Admired by every eye Yet none willing to get acquainted with her For her nature,the very repugnance of meek and mild Amplified. "Poltroons,behold ye buffoons See me subdue this wilful,mean spirited raging bull "said I. Somebody should have told me a mere man can't turn water into wine The tactic:beat her at her own game. The antic,however good in theory In practice was quite ineffective When she hollered,I hollered But soon,my throat sore I would have to give up And watch her go on and on. She seemed to last forever. Her tantrums, From the start I surrendered the hope of matching . For she threw them with such love and passion That any attempt would have been like trying to fire up a piece to the degree of the sun. It just can't be done. Now call me a sore loser But I maintain:if only she wasn't a black woman..............had she not been black......maybe