The Wait

Hearts hang in the parlor hung with care, the lady is hypnotized by a mirror fondling her glowing hair - In the waiting room he sits twiddling his thumbs, so long has he sat the blood has deserted his buns - She takes her time with her brave disquise, all a plan meant to feverishly tantalize - Nervously he clears his throat, checks his watch again and looks toward his hanging coat - Finally in all her glory she appears, but looking around she finds him nowhere - He has left and headed down the street, into an old pub finding someone easier to meet - Now, the morale of the story is: Gals, if you're gonna make a man wait, ya best go out quick and lock the front gate -