I am the wife; the loving, faithful wife.
His children’s mother and, he says, his life.
He tells me he loves me, brings me roses
And I believe him, he supposes.
And yes, I do believe he loves me in his way.
Love that we’ve had can’t simply fade away.
But he’s not mine alone, I know full well.
He forgets I never wear Chanel.
I am the husband, wracked with guilt,
Trapped in the web of lies I’ve built.
I know in my heart the right thing to do.
I stood in church and vowed to be true.
But I was weak and fell for temptation
And find myself in this situation.
I have to end it, I know for sure.
But, before I do, just one week more.
I’m the scarlet woman, mistress if you will.
My part in the story, a once a week thrill.
A cameo role in a tale of deceit.
A tale that for me must end in defeat.
He says he’ll leave her; I know that’s not true.
But things might change if only she knew.
So I’ve thought of a plan to make him mine.
I’ve sprayed his shirt with Chanel Number nine.
there was a redneck scarlet woman
who screamed blue murder
after seeing red in a blue movie
making purple passionate love in the pink
to the yellow peril who was green with envy
I am not my grammar
My English may be poor
But I am a straight talker, woman of my word
My speech conveys much meaning and wisdom
I do not mispronounce words, I put a St Lucian twist on them
I like to drink, dance and smoke
I love men but I am not a whore
Not your whore
Your woman friend perhaps
But I am no scarlet woman
I am not my grammar or lack thereof
English is a medium of communication
And I have no problems getting my message across
I have no shame coz my grand-parents raised me with dignity
I work hard and pay my way through life
I like to look good and take care of myself
But I am not my hair, my nails, my perfume
My grammar
And I am certainly not a whore
(not your whore)
There is more to me than meets the eye
I am not a whore
A heart set on love
forever falling for lust,
Just as metal over water
time produces rust.
Lost in never ending infinity
like an ocean bearing no earth,
Incomplete and unaware
like a child never reaching birth.
Impurity is ever present
but mistakes don't determine fate,
Life is a two edged sword
one side love the other hate.
Pain embodies beauty
like a rose entangled cross,
Love of a scarlet woman
ends this war with loss.
My world is crippled
in the face of my defeat,
So beautiful, Scarlet woman
whose kiss is bittersweet.
Scarlet woman rides the Beast,
whose star ariseth in the east;
thou wilt make a man thy feast.
Smeared with lies, thy pan is greased;
that first is most and last is least.
You stretch your sagging withered arms,
and draw the dead with deathly charms.
O' thou wretched boney hag,
whose garment is a filthy rag.
Corrupt within and all without.
Thy legs are full of gruesome gout.
Thy skin is scabbed, and open sores.
Thy make-up cakes upon thy pores.
Thy mouth, in smile, is nought but rot.
Upon thy hands, the leper's spot.
The stench of carcass in thy bowels.
Thy refuse clings upon thy towels.
You stretch your sagging withered arms,
And draw the dead with deathly charms.
They come to you, their mother dear,
and let you whisper in their ear.
You tell them what they want to hear.
You never caused a soul to fear,
that Christ may very soon appear.