He stood below her boudoir window

Singing from the heart

Waiting for his love to come

The curtains for to part.

He gazed upward longingly

In love he was entrenched

Instead of smiles and kisses

What he got was drenched.

That was fairly poor return

For love you just might think

But things were not improving

As his hose began to shrink!

When he started singing

He was baritone and low

Then as his tights grew tighter

To falsetto he did grow.

He left in abject misery

His heart in much distress

He might have fared much better

Had he checked his love's address!!!!!!!!!!!

           A/N This is NOT autobiographical!!

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Owain Glyn