In a way,

I guess,

Doing you was kind of my thing,

But better yet,

Doing me,

Sounds like a fun round in the suds.

I can try to make this sound dumb right?

At the pub.

But I promise I can’t make this up.

Here the story goes,

While we’re at the club,

I saw a colorful spirit dancing,

So to shut him up,

Bystanders took turn asking,

loddy-doddi-rounds,

In dead center of…

The bartender,

Through what she was mixing up,

A look so plain

With eyes scrolling-tucked.

A much discomforting such disgusted look.

So at the front he waited,

With no intended fuss,

Until a gal friend started standing up.

What a sudden look away smirk given to them aisle.

Since his only friend stood before the hate and agile.

”So what if he’s gay,”

Would you still send ‘em a cook,

Or

Does it meaninglessly bring you satisfactory unknowingly taken bitten,

At a fever that you have struck?

His happy foot is tapping!

Won’t you read a book!

Or

Nevertheless,

Read this room!

Nay,

Such thing you couldn’t have preposterously taken care,

As he was the first guy you overlooked!

A wretched day,

Turned nightly shook,

4 walls and a corner,

With lights and a disco,

This her first misspoken hook.

Because dancing Lillie’s are suppose to juk’ here.

You fairly misguided the booze and the laughing payment of his stupendous check b’.

A face card never declines my love,

But even in his starry eyes,

There was a swizzle in his matchbook.

Shall the gal point her finger,

or raise her hand?

A shout was much too spare,

And again.

His pal wasn’t no dilly fighter

But.

Serve him at once!

..clinging on Lee Street,

this was,

Yes, his waltz and his master.