Love jumped on us before we knew his name,
twisted our arms at prep schools,
hid up our mothers’ skirts,
oh! we were bent
by knitted bosoms
and that ladylike scent!

Love was a tyrant in his belted shorts,
was good at games and comely
just as the Bible said,
behind the scrum
a hardworked angel –
no wicked words like bum.

Love came, not physical in any way;
demanding friendship only,
the simple name of friend
was all we sought –
but his refusal,
what hellish pain that brought!

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