Imprisoned in her castle tower lair
She kept her drawbridge nose up in the air
Her distant eyes refused to look at me,
Down from her tower made of ivory
Her stunning castle walls looked great
Eighty – fifty – eighty-eight
To penetrate this fort, I’d find
A match of mathematic kind
So, to besiege her distant balcony
Depended on my clever strategy
Like woman there is only one
A swordsman’s work is never done
To reach this castle woman so remote
I’d swim across her frozen lava moat
I’d carry with me gifts of many kinds
My courage well-perfumed with pungent wine
It costs pursuing love, I guess
On credit – ‘though not limitless –
I’d purchase her some shoes of glass;
If wrinkle-proof, a looking glass;
Un-censured, Casanova’s memoirs;
And, just in case, a Freudian cigar
Like woman there is only one
A swordsman’s work is never done
I wrote a note, to set her ardor free:
“My pen is glowing at the thought of thee”
For second line, I wrote it once again
And, in a bottle, shipped the note and pen
Returned upon the evening tide