BASED ON MIDDLETON AND DEKKER’S PLAY OF THE SAME NAME.
A roaring girl I once did court —
I loved her swaggering comport;
my wooing she did countenance
but bid me to have better sense.
“Pshaw, I’ll have no married life,
do I look like a proper wife?;
my hips aren’t shaped for children, sir,
they’re more for a sword, I demur.”
Her verdure I admired so
and how she handled a crossbow;
the verve in which she rode posthaste
evinced a pith that was well-placed.
“I’ll not be mending to your clothes,
I’d rather tweak rogues on the nose;
I’ll not be sweeping up the floors,
‘cause I’m a person, sir, who roars.”
I was inspired by her mien
and how she wasn’t epicene;
and since she loved to duel and drink
like me, I said that we should link.
“Nay, sir, your good will’s good, but skewed
for which of us would cook the food?;
come morning time, you’ll want breakfast,
but I doubt from a pugilist.”
A roaring girl’s fun like a dude
but, after hours, looks great nude;
the perfect crony, so I thought,
but she mentioned one caveat.
“Aye, brawling’s swell, so’s tossing dice —
when we’re hung over, who makes nice?;
we’ll both want what we can’t provide —
a sweet wife at the fireside.”
Text, narration & production © 2015-2021 C. Kurtz.
Music: John Dowland, “England.”
Originally published by The Road Less Traveled spring 2018.