Why Will The Girls Refuse? After Thomas Haynes Bayly Why Will The Men Propose? And Christopher Pulling Why Don'T The Men Propose? Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Why will the girls refuse, mamma,
why will the girls refuse?
For every time one turns me down
I throw a fit of blues.
how can a guy go gad about
with no-one to amuse,
when each proposal meets with frown:
some clues, mamma, your views?

Why can’t they be content, mamma,
when taken out to dine
to Fred’s fine fish and chip bazaar
with water ‘stead of wine,
it went down well with you and pa
before the parking fine,
so if we walk, no need for car,
why will Miss Prissy whine?

I’m sure I’ve done my best, mamma,
to keep them at my heels,
however when we’re left alone
each wretched creature squeals
if I embrace a funny bone
or wonder what conceals
the iron curtain of a bra
in kevlar naught unpeels.

I only weigh five hundred pounds
must wait grow hand in hand
with weight whence maestro singer's sounds
are heard throughout the land?
And why on Earth must out of bounds
my girth appear? I'm grand!
Although I cannot ride to hounds
why won't ONE understand?

I’m only fifty-four, mamma,
I long for one sure fling,
if plastic painted proper shines
why won’t one wear my ring?
I’ve duly learned my deaf-dumb signs
so studiously to bring
a new dimension to my lines:
each answers sharply, stings.

I try to psycho-analyse
the promises unkept,
I’ve kept my privates undersize
well hidden though I wept.
I’ve tried ignoring petty lies,
ate humble pies, and yet
I wait for one who 'yes! ' replies
to sighs none intercept.

If I invite to nightclub bar
there's someone else she'll choose.
Some say I may appear bizarre
no socks and two left shoes
tied up with string from old guitar -
it cost too much to lose -
while last semester's hershey bar
their judgement must confuse.

I've tried to spill a pint of scent
signed 'Channel' overseas -
though made in China it is meant
to conjure birds and bees.
I've spent darn almost every cent
yet all I get is tease
though each and every compliment
is given on my knees

Why won’t they foot some bills, mamma,
why won’t they foot some bills?
I put them up on pedestals
they put me down plug swills,
and should I dare suggest I care,
receive a look that kills,
it isn’t fair the fair, mamma,
my gifts repay with ills,
the while, of course, they no holds bar
suggesting codicils.

In lavish clubs they love each rubs
me up wrong way, refills
the ladle full of caviar,
with much to spare as spills,
they eat their fills yet naught fulfills,
then pop pink slimming pills.
I double check when check appears,
groan green about the gills.

Years I’ve collected paper clips,
and clips about the ears
when I suggest that kissing lips
is sporty after beers,
I’m met with tears, can’t come to grips
with undeservèd fears
confusing each advance as slips
before maid disappears.!

Why will the girls refuse, mamma,
why will the girls refuse?
Hinting condition mint, I've cased
the joint, left heavy clues,
I'll copy paste, give diamonds (paste) ,
reprint blogs that amuse,
yet all my efforts run to waste
although neat tricks I use.

I've tried to post on Internet
in I.M., verse, and prose,
I've tried to run a contest yet,
although they queue in rows
for points not one appoints me pet
and should I dare propose,
they shy off, cry, regret or fret,
communication close.

Why will the girls refuse, Mamma,
why will the girls refuse?
Debs' spider webs my brushes tar,
however snide I'd ruse.
They sense me coming from afar,
spin s[l]ick silk cunning glues,
peruse their residues as scar
which [t]issues must confuse.

Why will the girls refuse, Mamma,
why will the girls refuse?
when shy it doesn't get me far,
when bold they blow a fuse!
When no holds barred the siren car
my motives may accuse,
and when I wish on shooting star
they still, they still refuse!