Palecock

I say no doubt you are crowned cocker-lula-baboo
And you say I may have been withdrawn and in gloom
To whom but you, you say, my queen noncho-lalu-babloom
Prancing in your (pale)cock feathers you expect me to swoon
To you I see none other than a pompous goon

Gaily I consider handing back your backward pomp with clever songs
Your head gone swelling in funny angles
Perhaps I may lend a hand for the shape gone horribly wrong
Adjusting your thick clumsy brows for I'm kind and gentle
But not too long for you to think I may be your Song.


**Inspired by the pompous goon. I'm not your Song, not now not ever.