Oh! Woeful Walter!
How you flounder, fumble and falter,
And so often flatter to deceive.
Yes, you’ll forever be a failure, a poor excuse for a tailor, I tell ya!
With your half-mast harries, shirts far too jazzy,
And a heart tearing at the seams…
Oh! Weakly Walter!
Week after week after week,
For you, life will never change nor alter,
Left alone again at the altar, “Halt, her! Stop her! Catch her!”
Jilted with a jerk and a jolt, just left there,
Threadbare hair and in despair, life is never fair…
Oh! Wearisome Walter!
That reminds me, what happened to that newfound love of yours?
The mad girl Luna with the tic?
Moon-faced and starry-eyed, her lips were made-to-measure,
For your pain and pleasure forever,
Ah! Tied to your own two facial turn-ups, and
Sewn seamlessly to your seamstress, so it seemed…
Oh! Wailing Walter!
Won’t you button it, put a sock in it, let that be the end of it, lad!
Perhaps she was already bespoken for? (Not for the first time, that’s for sure)
“So long!” instead, she said, “Farewell my feeble, featherbrained friend!”
For indeed she left, right foot forward, no foreword needed,
The epilogue is always the same.