By A Hair

Now what is a fellow to do

When he’s labored the long day through,

And taken a train back home to ride

And sat him behind, or perhaps beside

An amorous blonde with fluffy hair,

And onto his cot by a gust of air

A golden thread should be tucked away

To be found again at the close of day

By the wife who meets him at the door

Looking his garments carefully o’er?

What is a fellow to do, I say,

When caught in such an unfortunate way?

O, fate should be kind to him, I claim,

For the amorous blonde is all to blame.

March 15, ‘06