His Words Are Apt To Do Her Acrobats

His words are apt to do her acrobats His words are apt to do handstands And brush away her stinging nettles Then she's reaching for her star And wrestles adjacent his smiles. He winks as she, wiles She thinks, isn't he charming. The midges are dancing; they sense there's going- To be a ménage à trois, a threesome, mingling. But when he climbs and walks her tightrope She gives him the shake-down quite flatly But when he's down heartened, weeping acrobats. Its then she in turn gently catches him In her non-existent all-embracing safety net. So now he's winking again as again she, wiles Again she thinks, isn't he charming. And all the midges are dancing; they sense there's going- To be a ménage à trois, a threesome, mingling.