To Her Pushy Boyfriend
Had we but world enough and time,
I’d say to you, by way of rhyme
just how revolting it has been
to listen to your sickly stream
of pretty words you hoped would make
me sleep with you. Give me a break.
You call me “coy” coz I refuse
to give you what you want, you choose
to take no notice of the fact
that nineteen times (to be exact)
I’ve told you no, get lost, rack off
skip out, you overbearing toff.
Retire your rusty pick-up truck.
Get on your bike, you leering schmuck.
Is there a problem with your hearing?
Is that the reason why you’re peering
in the direction of my breasts
like I’m the meal you’re having next?
Well guess what, mate. You’re out of luck.
I’ve got your mobile number, Chuck.
I say this with sincerity:
Big Macs have more integrity.
And just a little FYI:
not all girls want to eat your pie.
Matter of fact, I’d rather lie
in wet cement than kiss a guy.
That’s right, I’m queer. Yes, it’s a thing,
like Instagram or snorkelling.
And no, that’s not me asking you
to join me and my girlfriend—eww.
And while we’re on the topic here
another thing I should make clear.
Women owe you nothing, mate,
even when you’re on a date.
She’s hot for you? She’ll let you know.
Until she does, you back off, joe.
Pretending that she’s ‘coy’ is lame:
a sneaky, disrespectful game.
Read the room. It’s not so tough.
You can always Google stuff
to find out what words mean, e.g.
A poplar is a type of tree.
Coffee is a stimulant.
A mandolin’s an instrument.
The Golden Girls a funny show
on TV once. And no means no.