Basket's Lament

von Patrick Gurris
Basket's Lament

(to you know who)

Of all girls' replies
to mice and mens
the meanest is:
let's just be friends.

When Sheba came to Solomon, she
brought him gold and frankincense,
but when more wanted he
she said:
"Oh Solly, let's be friends."

And Caesar was in Egypt's land
to woo the queen of the Nile,
to offer Cleo a wedding band;
it worked a little while.
Yet Cleo met butch Anthony
and fell for him and thence
told Caeser (though he was dead by then):
"Let's only just be friends."

In Verona on her balcony
stood Juliet the fair,
known for her sweet disposition
and yellow flowing hair.
And Romeo was smitten,
dizzy as with the bends.
She spurned his love and nightingale.
"Wherefore? We art just friends!"

Some like it hot, some like it blonde,
some itch for seven years.
Few were as wild as Marilyn,
who brought the men to tears
of lust. Even Jack Kennedy,
the playboy at the time,
was mad in love with Marilyn:
"Monroe, won't you be mine?"
She giggled, shook her platinum curls,
and said: "I ain't the kind of girl,
which has a thing for presidents,
let's only just be friends."

Which brings us up to you and I,
my love, romance's latest try.
I asked you once, too soon perhaps,
and got the old reply.
But don't think that I'll give ya up.
Not here the story ends,
for I'll be darned if I'd accept:
Let's only just be friends.

© 2013 Patrick Gurris