Poor girl, flower of youth sadly wilted,
She knitted and crocheted, and quilted.
Nor mother nor wife,
Never fucked in her life…
Once engaged, for a month, and then jilted.
Tag: old maid
Maidenhood
Though by nature shy, modest and staid,
Lest she grow up to be an old maid,
Hook or crook, wrong or right,
She decided one night,
Better go out and get herself laid!
Regret
Later on, she would find herself rueing
Her coyness, the billing and cooing,
And wish, ever so,
That she’d quit saying no,
Just said yes, and got on then with screwing!
The old maid
As she knits, the old maid reminisces;
Those daring chaps! Lingering kisses!
Her shimmering dresses …
But, blushing, confesses…
It’s mostly the fucking she misses!
Options weighed
Had she stayed, she thought, rather dismayed,
She would not, then, have gone home unlaid;
Not be innocent still,
Still not know that mad thrill,
Not be doomed, still, to be an old maid!