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This title is printed to order. This book may have been self-published. If so, we cannot guarantee the quality of the content. In the main most books will have gone through the editing process however some may not. We therefore suggest that you be aware of this before ordering this book. If in doubt check either the author or publisher’s details as we are unable to accept any returns unless they are faulty. Please contact us if you have any questions.
THE SENSE OF A WOMAN
When God created Man, He didn’t really have a plan,
But they turned out rather well for a first try.
He gave them abs and other parts to stir the women’s hearts,
Plus charming smiles, and captivating eyes.
There was a problem with the brain that I think I should explain,
For it tells us why men sometimes seem so dense:
Their egos took up so much room that we simply can assume,
There was hardly any space left for their sense.
But women caught a break, as God had learned from His mistake,
That’s why men are nines and women are all tens.
For He kept our egos small, which made room to install,
All the extra sense left over from the men.
Without our sense this world would be fast cars and sports TV;
We’d push and shove and cuss and spit and scratch.
There’d be no ribbons and no flowers, no children’s story hours,
And the earth would soon be littered up with trash.
Veggie trays would disappear, to be replaced with chips and beer,
And things like vacuums, mops, and brooms would all be gone.
We’d start each meal with a dessert; end each sentence with a burp.
No one would kiss the hurts or point out right from wrong.
We’d have toilets without seats, a liquor store on every street.
Our kids would not be taught to say, Yes, sir, or No, ma'am.
So when that ceiling finally shatters; when we’ve shown the world we matter,
We must celebrate the sense of a woman.
Yes, we’re weak, yet we are strong; not always right, not often wrong.
We’re each unique, but have so many things in common.
We stay composed when we’re intense; you’ll never find us on the fence,
Because we’re blessed with the sense of a woman.
Rue Doolin
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This title is printed to order. This book may have been self-published. If so, we cannot guarantee the quality of the content. In the main most books will have gone through the editing process however some may not. We therefore suggest that you be aware of this before ordering this book. If in doubt check either the author or publisher’s details as we are unable to accept any returns unless they are faulty. Please contact us if you have any questions.
THE SENSE OF A WOMAN
When God created Man, He didn’t really have a plan,
But they turned out rather well for a first try.
He gave them abs and other parts to stir the women’s hearts,
Plus charming smiles, and captivating eyes.
There was a problem with the brain that I think I should explain,
For it tells us why men sometimes seem so dense:
Their egos took up so much room that we simply can assume,
There was hardly any space left for their sense.
But women caught a break, as God had learned from His mistake,
That’s why men are nines and women are all tens.
For He kept our egos small, which made room to install,
All the extra sense left over from the men.
Without our sense this world would be fast cars and sports TV;
We’d push and shove and cuss and spit and scratch.
There’d be no ribbons and no flowers, no children’s story hours,
And the earth would soon be littered up with trash.
Veggie trays would disappear, to be replaced with chips and beer,
And things like vacuums, mops, and brooms would all be gone.
We’d start each meal with a dessert; end each sentence with a burp.
No one would kiss the hurts or point out right from wrong.
We’d have toilets without seats, a liquor store on every street.
Our kids would not be taught to say, Yes, sir, or No, ma'am.
So when that ceiling finally shatters; when we’ve shown the world we matter,
We must celebrate the sense of a woman.
Yes, we’re weak, yet we are strong; not always right, not often wrong.
We’re each unique, but have so many things in common.
We stay composed when we’re intense; you’ll never find us on the fence,
Because we’re blessed with the sense of a woman.
Rue Doolin