(Ok, Mr. Balladeer, here goes nothing!)
We two, Jean and I,
Clarinetists on the rise,
Took lessons in the city,
Had our teenage ties
(seventy’s halter tops)
Neither of us had dated
But heard of those who did,
We Chicks, cognizant of the bases
But not of where the “shortstop” lived!
Our love lives were “The Pits” to tell
When asked of our good times
The mocking birds jeered at us,
Naive of sexual climes.
(blushing faces easily red)
Many cruised the drive-ins,
Giving Falcons extra spinnage,
Green, they looked at us,
When we turniped in Mustang (64) vintage.
Their eyes once had pigeon-holed
The perfect size and date,
Yet, were over-hauled by my auto,
Haltered deerly by the bait.
Gee, this exercise was fun. Good one.