The Duel
Like the jolly musketeer of yore,
I pranced, twirled and clashed for,
A chance open to none but one,
Luckless rogue, come and be undone.
French Rapiers jostling for contact,
One lunges forward, the other retracts,
Whilst the ladies gasped and tittered,
By our glittering duel, were bewitched.
Some strange Divine perchance,
Fumbles upon and breaks his lance,
One maestro sighs but laughs aloud,
Blue blooded gentlemen after a bout.
And you offered your dainty hand,
Enthralling looks of the latest trend,
Camphored and powdered to beguile,
The naive youth with a delicate style.
Some accursed sorcery of your sex,
Lures and tempts with a flirty hex,
Which I above all would die for,
Killed and cold on the marble floor.
Fortune is a fickle strumpet,
Yet it delivered you to me,
My worn out blade sheathed,
The duel plays out to its end.
Two men fighting over a lady. I hope you got the innuendos inside....