BAREFOOT, PREGNANT, AND CHAINED TO THE STOVE

(female vocal)

I could say I'll love you till the day I die
But you'd never believe such a promise
I could tell you you're the world's best looking guy
But I would risk offending Adonis.

I could quickly make you my one and only
But you'd never leave all of your women
I could tell you without you I'm lonely
But you'd stay in Lothario heaven.

I could whisper in your ear that I love you
But your raging thoughts would not let you hear
I could try out a new Parisian hair-do
But you wouldn't take your nose out of King Lear.

I could send you perfume-scented love letters
That you would absently feed to your dog
I could pretend I'm one of those jet setters
Then crash in your impenetrable fog.

I could wear clothes in your favorite colors
Just to remind you that you're color blind
I could say 'yes' to my gentleman callers
The ones you think are a figment of my mind.

I could do so many things to win your heart
But not a single one of them would work
I could admit I just don't know where to start
With you acting like the world's biggest jerk.

I have been trying so hard to get my way
And everything's turning out wrong
I can hear my grandmother's Southern drawl say
'Be careful not to come on too strong!'

So I'm taking a page out of history
One I'm thinking you might just understand
I'm putting myself out of my misery
I am leaping right into your hand.

I'm chaining myself to the stove
I'm discarding all of my shoes
Visible proof no more can I rove
I'll have the Stuck in Ancient History Blues.

I'll be barefoot, pregnant, and chained to the stove
It might sound just a wee bit extreme
But if I must do this to show you my love
I care little about how it might seem.

I'll cook for you, slave for you, make babies, too
I'll do it all with the greatest of skill
We'll be like exhibits they put in the zoo
Wildlife submitting to your manly will.
© 2000 by Michael J. Farrand

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