I courted nice old fashioned girls
With bashful eyes beneath their curls,
And ones who thought so very new
Demanding praise they were not due.
None were loyal by the yard
Or loyal by the meter,
And if there is a one true heart
I’ve sadly yet to meet her.
Perhaps it’s women’s nature then
To have corners to their eyes
Through which to judge upcoming men,
Calculating loves demise
Perhaps it is some lack in me
I am too close alas to see,
Or some long nurtured lie in mind
Seeking what’s not there to find.
There is no winning in the fray,
Where every dog may have his way.
What’s won is only borrowed time,
None are ever always mine.
At peace, alone, I count the cost
Of battles won and battles lost,
The war is over, come what may
I will not fight another day.