There are brave souls who crash and burn, and yet will try again
To find in matrimony loving kindness and pure Zen.
They seek a second spouse because the first one didn’t work;
And who am I to judge them with a snigger or a smirk?
But I find as a bachelor I’m happy and content;
I do not want another mate my feelings to ferment.
I wake up in the morning without lists of things to do.
I go to bed at night with a good book, and not a shrew.
I hope you will excuse me if I state that matrimony
To me is not a blessing but instead just plain baloney.
If I want anxiety and many tears be shedding,
I’ll invest in stocks & bonds, and NOT in pricey wedding!
When hubby comes to dinner, after chopping off some heads,
he likes to have a choice of sev’ral kinds of humus spreads.
I have the kitchen slave make all the flatbread good and crisp;
He smiles while he is eating just to hear the baby’s lisp.
And if a bomb should happen to blow up in the back yard
He tells me that my burqa keeps me safe from getting scarred.
He takes the time to teach us all some good Islamic lesson,
then sends the children off to bed, each with their Smith & Wesson.
Our marriage was arranged by mullahs when I was thirteen,
And on our anniversary I get a tangerine.
But if my man decides to take a second Moslem wife . . .
He’ll find that I’m the terrorist with sharp and flashing knife!
From a story on Buzz Feed
(Inspired by a story by Ben Hubbard)
Hey, Salman, buddy, don’t forget your old pal from the days
We used to go on picnics in the khareef’s misty haze.
Just you and me and retinue of a thousand men or so
(and of course the harem that was with you on the go).
I see you got the old man’s seat; congratulations, pal!
You’re passing out the beaucoup bucks to boost the state’s morale.
I do not wish to seem like I presume too much from you,
But times are tough; I’m in the rough; some cash would see me through.
About a million dollars sure would be enough for me;
I guess I can rely upon your generosity.
Send the check down to the county jail and I won’t squawk.
I’ll pay my bail and get my shirt and pants right out of hock!