English Man

Ode to the English man, there's always a story,

A story of a fellow in love with a maiden,

The fair maiden in love with a man of a higher place.

The English man an awful poet at the most,

Tried so hard to make a sonnet to his love,

But sand was in her eyes from a long night's rest,

She was blocked from seeing the innocence of the boy,

He was alone in a world too big.

While she sat all pretty and gnawed at her figs,

He thought to himself, If I just wrote one decent poem,

Perhaps she would greet me with open arms,

bound in lace,

How could he describe such a woman and her beauty?

Effulgent...