Classic Poem

Man of Andalusian letters,
When you speak about the gyves
And the shackles and the fetters
Put upon us by our wives;
When you tell us we are made of
Weak and malleable clay,
And assert we are afraid of
Those whom we obey;

When you say our one ambition
Is to mollify and please;
That our usual position
Is upon our bended knees;
When you tell us that the tearful
Woman melts the icy heart,
That we quiver, ever fearful
Lest the storm may start;

When you say we ought to beat 'em,
Ought to pull the cave man stuff;
That our duty is to treat 'em,
As the vulgar have it, rough—
With the things that you observe I'd
Be the last to pick a fight,
If I only had the nerve, I'd
Say that you were right.

Man of Andalusian letters,
When you speak about the gyves
And the shackles and the fetters
Put upon us by our wives;
When you tell us we are made of
Weak and malleable clay,
And assert we are afraid of
Those whom we obey;

When you say our one ambition
Is to mollify and please;
That our usual position
Is upon our bended knees;
When you tell us that the tearful
Woman melts the icy heart,
That we quiver, ever fearful
Lest the storm may start;

When you say we ought to beat 'em,
Ought to pull the cave man stuff;
That our duty is to treat 'em,
As the vulgar have it, rough—
With the things that you observe I'd
Be the last to pick a fight,
If I only had the nerve, I'd
Say that you were right.