Life is what you make of it,
As someone once observed,
A phrase that sounds a trifle glib,
But whoever thought it out,
Had clearly never sorted out,
The vexing problem,
Of Adam's spare rib,
Chastity I take it,
Is specially reserved,
For those possessing moral fibres,
Mine fail me all the time,
And maybe that's the reason,
I'm a baa baa black sheep
Calling all subscribers,
Time and again,
I'm tortured with contrition,
And swear that I'm sorry I've sinned,
And when I think,
I've got the whole thing sewn up,
I must own up,
Everything gets blown up,
Freud could explain,
My curious condition,
And Yung would have certainly grinned,
When I meet some sly dish,
That looks like 'my' dish,
I'm sunk,
Drunk,
Gone with the wind,
How can I start afresh?
When the sins of the flesh over-ride me,
Maybe some psychoanalyst,
Might slap my wrist,
And give a twist,
To what goes on inside me,
If I could feign,
The glandular transition,
I'd settle for taking the veil,
Time and again I try,
Time and again I fail,
Moralists disparage,
The variable heart,
And say that it should be fenced in,
But they never think about,
Effective means of casting out,
That dear old die hard,
Original sin,
Paramount is marriage,
Free love is a-la-carte,
And once you've crossed forbidden fruits off,
You merely find that you've unwittingly,
Set out to prove the age-old saying,
"Better with your boots on",
Time and again,
I've tried to form a credo,
But somehow I don't seem to learn,
Just when I think,
My guardian angel's winning,
I go spinning,
Back to the beginning,
I can't refrain,
From firing a torpedo,
Abaft or ahead or astern,
If I hit my quarry,
I can't feel sorry,
I'm hooked,
Cooked,
Done to a turn,
Though I frequently wish,
I could curb my condition reflexes,
I'll be d***ed if I'll sacrifice,
Sugar and spice,
To be precise,
Nothing as nice as s** is,
I can't restrain,
My treacherous libido,
From slipping and tipping the scale,
Time and again I try,
Time and again... I fail.
As someone once observed,
A phrase that sounds a trifle glib,
But whoever thought it out,
Had clearly never sorted out,
The vexing problem,
Of Adam's spare rib,
Chastity I take it,
Is specially reserved,
For those possessing moral fibres,
Mine fail me all the time,
And maybe that's the reason,
I'm a baa baa black sheep
Calling all subscribers,
Time and again,
I'm tortured with contrition,
And swear that I'm sorry I've sinned,
And when I think,
I've got the whole thing sewn up,
I must own up,
Everything gets blown up,
Freud could explain,
My curious condition,
And Yung would have certainly grinned,
When I meet some sly dish,
That looks like 'my' dish,
I'm sunk,
Drunk,
Gone with the wind,
How can I start afresh?
When the sins of the flesh over-ride me,
Maybe some psychoanalyst,
Might slap my wrist,
And give a twist,
To what goes on inside me,
If I could feign,
The glandular transition,
I'd settle for taking the veil,
Time and again I try,
Time and again I fail,
Moralists disparage,
The variable heart,
And say that it should be fenced in,
But they never think about,
Effective means of casting out,
That dear old die hard,
Original sin,
Paramount is marriage,
Free love is a-la-carte,
And once you've crossed forbidden fruits off,
You merely find that you've unwittingly,
Set out to prove the age-old saying,
"Better with your boots on",
Time and again,
I've tried to form a credo,
But somehow I don't seem to learn,
Just when I think,
My guardian angel's winning,
I go spinning,
Back to the beginning,
I can't refrain,
From firing a torpedo,
Abaft or ahead or astern,
If I hit my quarry,
I can't feel sorry,
I'm hooked,
Cooked,
Done to a turn,
Though I frequently wish,
I could curb my condition reflexes,
I'll be d***ed if I'll sacrifice,
Sugar and spice,
To be precise,
Nothing as nice as s** is,
I can't restrain,
My treacherous libido,
From slipping and tipping the scale,
Time and again I try,
Time and again... I fail.