Like many a lad he was driven mad
Trying to work out just what he should be
Cos it’s no small joke, when you’re born a bloke
To decode masculinity
He ran his race as a sportsman
A challenging pathway to choose
What he hadn’t been taught, about professional sport
Is that those who are not winners lose
Some are just not cut out for a man’s man
He determined to not even try
He saw men are not born to live only by brawn
But to laugh, and to love, and to cry
He played a few hands as a ladies’ man
But could not get the rules of the game
So he cashed in his chips when he tasted the lips
Of the girl who would take on his name
He tried his luck as a salesman
That plan went quite quickly awry
It cannot turn out well when you’re trying to sell
Something no-one is wanting to buy
He’d accepted his lot as a family man
There are many worse things you can be
But his milk and his honey ran out when the money
Did likewise, and we became he
At last he found peace as a gentle man
Giving succour to those more in need
And the treasure unearthed was that a man’s real worth
Is found not in his bank, but his deeds
He passed away just the other day
With no lover on hand, and few friends
So it seems that at last he’d become his own man
Is that all that he was, in the end?
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