We love fawning over tough jocks,
Not too artful, not too brainy.
We know fashion, we know who rocks.
We call what’s old-fangled zany.
Things keep getting better for us,
More of us get sheepskins hanging
Than the men who can’t ignore us:
We’re good for much more than banging.
Too long we were disrespected;
Old ways are no longer sticking.
Our equality’s accepted
Shlepping wood or politicking,
But of home & hearth we can’t talk.
Where’s a mate in this great nation?
Guys go begging on the sidewalk
With good hands but no ambition,
Telling us that we don’t need them
So the wind’s left their sails drooping.
Why should we spare change to feed them
Best spent on our own regrouping?
Who’s entitled to our sweet love?
If we share it, what’s that gain us?
We can count on our wits, sort of,
Not on others’ to sustain us.
If a single life’s depressing,
Take these pills and they’ll improve it.
These aren’t blues that we’re expressing,
Just some loafing thoughts: now move it!