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