Not to be taken seriously A Three-Act Play
My wife directs my life like a three-act play,
My rise, my sleeping and the rest of my day.
Its rise shower shave and a list in her hand,
Not a demand, it goes with the wedding band.
But try as I may I can't do things right,
From the moment of rise to the dark of night.
It seems she has plans on every behalf,
When I think of act three, it's a hardy laugh.
Act three is when she allows us to bed.
But before we sleep a question is said.
And my mind races to answer her soar,
When back comes a snort from a definite snore.
I can't rightly say how the rest of you fend,
I'm sure you have felt a similar end.
Women are still an enigma to me,
If god would it different, he'd hand us a key.
I could never figure their mind or rational
I don't feel a husband, just a hanging fal-lal.