TRUEBE LIEBE
by John T. Baker
The red-head's Jaguar left the bank,
she had her hundred-dollar-bill,
then to the lake to meet her Frank
who'd vowed to cherish her until

"the stars up high desert the sky
and all the oceans turn to tea,
till turtles talk and earthworms fly,
till then, my love, depend on me!"

She parked the Jaguar where he stood
and leaped into his fierce embrace;
he led her deep into the wood
to their own special trysting-place.

They strolled the bank along the lake
and sat beneath the willow trees;
he told her tales of trips they'd take,
with kisses as parentheses.

"At every gourmet spot we find,
we'll eat," said he, "and drink our fill;
we'll dine so well we're sure to wind
up with a hundred=dollar-bill."

He stroked her hair, "You're tired, my dear,
I know that now you need a nap;
lie down and put your red head here
and dream sweet dreams upon my lap.

When she awakened drenched with dew,
the lake was dark, the forest still;
her Frank was gone, her Jaguar too,
also her hundred-dollar-bill.

The moral since the world began
is very simple, honey:
just never ever trust a man
with women . . . cars . . . or money!