The Taming of the Shrew
I once fancied myself a petruchio
And set out to tame myself a shrew
There existed a Katherina.
A dame beautiful but crazy and wild
Admired by every eye
Yet none willing to get acquainted with her
For her nature,the very repugnance of meek and
mild
Amplified.
"Poltroons,behold ye buffoons
See me subdue this wilful,mean spirited raging bull
"said I.
Somebody should have told me a mere man can't
turn water into wine
The tactic:beat her at her own game.
The antic,however good in theory
In practice was quite ineffective
When she hollered,I hollered
But soon,my throat sore
I would have to give up
And watch her go on and on.
She seemed to last forever.
Her tantrums,
From the start I surrendered the hope of matching .
For she threw them with such love and passion
That any attempt would have been like trying to
fire up a piece to the degree of the sun.
It just can't be done.
Now call me a sore loser
But I maintain:if only she wasn't a black
woman..............had she not been black......maybe
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