Fire works

The following is two things:  A backlash from reading too much Sayers, and an incredibly delightful bit of verbally misogynist hopscotch.

Peruse.

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If equanimity be king and commonality supreme,

Then earth itself leaves me disgusted; the existential sheen has rusted.

For if the chauvinist cannot demand a meal piping hot

Of the hands of his fair lass, marriage time has surely passed.

I dreamed a dream of days gone by and seasons past in which the I

Trumped the We most every time and silenced dear Evangeline.

For if the pig-head man can see a lure within matrimony

Suffragettes must yet be suffered to keep filling man’s bare cupboard

With sundries, meats and fatty foods to better alter dour moods.

If man hath no baseless dominion o’er the fairer sex of women

Then few and far between shall be men possessed of wives-to-be.

(How often must this concept vex she who seeks to marry Rex!)

And down must go her expectations of the status of her station,

For though man certainly knows not of how to serve or prepare aught

Yet there remain these obligations for she who will pour libations

Of her dignity and grace on altars of white wedding lace.

We do not say it’s fair to her or that these duties are deserved

But we admittedly say little with our mouths stuffed so with Skittles.