I knew one who decided
That her soul was guided
By custom and habit and work,
So when she fell madly in love,
She decided he was a jerk.
In youth she owned a romantic side,
Which, when older, she denied
In custom and habit and work,
So when she fell madly in love
She felt that she was a jerk.
Society must have it that she
To be good must never be free
Of custom and habit and work.
So when she fell madly in love
She thought, ‘this is only a quirk.’
She was good and she was lovely,
So the jerk wrote her poetry,
And the poetry did its work;
Eventually custom and habit
Became the life of a jerk.
Not love, not love, but poetry,
Poetry gave love to love, poetry,
Poetry killed custom and work,
Poetry, poetry, poetry
Saved the life of the jerk.
