Category: Marriage

Say no more about it, darling;
It was, yes, my own mistake.
But your dreams still find you snarling–
While I’m lying here awake!

You had the lest word, and I shan’t try to beat it;
So you don’t need, my love, in your sleep to repeat it.

by Ray Romine Monday, February 19, 1945

Sleek young crooners moan of love,
Charm, and lips, and going steady.
Please don’t think I am above
Such things. I’m married up a’ready

by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 8, 1952

What a “Fall-guy” is, really, has been too long buried:
Human male, any age whatsoever, who’s married.

by Ray Romine Thursday, January 7, 1954

That marriage should be an open book
There’s very little doubt of;
But a husband’s apt to find, the schnook,
It’s the kind he takes checks out of.

by Ray Romine Saturday, February 14, 1953

When all is said and done, my dear,
And the last word is written,
I hope the gossips fondly leer:
“He was Florence-smitten”.

For nothing I have ever done,
Or in the future finish,
Can make your glory even one
Single whit diminish.

Success or wealth, or friends or fame
Can be just words I ‘ve written–
But you are more than just a name!
I’ll stay Florence-smitten.

by Ray Romine Sunday, September 1, 1946

A small boy won’t, the days disclose,
Wash his face, control a curl,
Clean his shoes, de-drip his nose
Half as well as will a girl;
But sister quells the urge to shake him–
In ten years or so, she knows,
Someone else’s sis will make him
Conscious of face, hair and clothes!

by Ray Romine Thursday, January 11, 1951

Even in domestic matches,
Friend husband’s guaranteed a word.
The one unmentioned little catch is,
He isn’t promised he’ll be heard.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, March 26, 1952

She’s smiling her prettiest; he’s looking grim,
As their pathways converge at the altar,
For, while she’s complacent about hooking him,
His mumblings include the word “halter”.

For the first time, it’s hit him they don’t teach in school
What’s turned him unsteady and pale:
Mere man’s the exception who’s proving the rule
That the dominant sex is the male.

by Ray Romine Thursday, March 15, 1951

And so, you think you wish to marry,
Do you, poor mis-guided Harry?
Will you accept the sage advice
Of one who’s tripped to altar twice?
Or will you be a smarty-pants
And put your entire faith in Chance?
Will you be a cheerful elf,
Who has to learn it all himself?
Will you turn a deaf ear, say,
And learn it all the harder way?
Well, ready or not, and take or leave it,
Here I come… (But you won’t believe it):

First, don’ t be blinded by her beauty–
At 80, what’s a cuddly cuty?
Can you tell,–I dare you, sir–
Which is DRUG-STORE: which is HER?
If ignore you her complexion,
That’s Step One in the right direction.
What if she seems a wee bit pallid?
Can she resurrect a tasty salad?
(At any rate, make sure, I beg,
That she can fry, at least, an egg);
A sad mis-step the guy has took
Who’s wed a gal who cannot cook!

I think it not too far amiss
To now investigate her kiss:
Is she reluctant when you woo,
Pulling lips away from you?
Or do they, rather, grab and cling
More like barnacles than anything?
Teach her half-and-half’s the answer
(Give me her number if you can’t, sir).

Is she the type of female boob
Who cannot squeeze a toothpaste tube?
Or can she change your auto tires?
Knows she the hammer from the pliers?
Try her with a lawn-mower, too,
As this would take a load from you.
If the roof breaks out a drizzle,
Is she handy with a chisel?
Has she got a building bent;
Good with mortar or cement?
The course she had in hot rug-cuttin’,
Did it teach her how to sew a button?
Be sure she isn’t too refractory
To hold a job in plant or factory.
Another thing: it’s most consoling
If she’s adept at shoe re-soling.
Make sure, too, that she’s the type
Who’ll alone the dishes wash and wipe.

It’s these LITTLE THINGS, you bet your life,
That matter when you choose a wife;
Away with sentiment–let’s be practical:
The smartest groom is the one who’s tactical.
Then, if, my boy, she doesn’t nag,
Your happiness is in the bag.

BUT
If she comes through these, my advice
Is: WEAR the shoes, and EAT the rice!
For when it’s said, with all its commas,
I’d still prefer a Breach of Prommas!

Of course, you’re not convinced, for, durn it,
I hadda be married TWICE to learn it!
So go ahead and marry the dame:
SOMEDAY you’ll thank me, just the same.

by Ray Romine Thursday, July 8, 1943

He’s happy daughter made the grade,
But elation will keep til the bills are paid.

by Ray Romine Monday, March 27, 1950