If you haven't already read it, go back to the original, Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress" -- a far better
poem than this one. On the other hand, he only had one mistress to deal with.
Too Many Coy Mistresses
(with apologies to Andrew Marvell)
Had I but space enough and time
To wallow in the mud and grime,
I'd use it wisely to repent
Chances lost and youth misspent.
But close behind I always hear
The yapping hounds of age and fear.
So let us revel while we may
And while the sun still shines, make hay.
Copyright; Bob Johnston
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