His Dear Mary

I know it is a deathly wrong
for eyes so blue, brown hair so long
for lips as rosy as her cheeks
and hands as soft as father's sheep
to make me feel like I may soar.
Surely, I would be cured a whore
For not being attracted more
to masculine spacemen's that haunt my door
and promise to me as they beg
they'd give the world, an arm, a leg.
But when I see her I'm filled with glee
and beg the stars she feels that for me.
Yes, it would be worth a thousand whips
and all the blood that'd surely drip.
Oh, I would take the wrath of God,
even the fire of Hell that'd burn my bod,
if only Mary would place her lips
against mine in one gentle kiss.
But, sadly, I'll see her no more
for she has gone away to bore
a child that will save this land
and bless us with his holy hand.
But I do not think he will save me
for I will always love his dear Mary.

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