Poor Boy, Rich Girl

There once was a girl from Vaucluse
Who dripped wealth from her hats to her shoes
Twas her husband’s fine things
Gifts of jewels and rings
That she knew she must not ever lose

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There once was a boy from Potts Point
Who grew rapidly sick of the joint
In the country was born
Saw the city with scorn
Like a priest he the bush did anoint

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So they met one fortuitous day
Having said what they both had to say
To him she was quite splendid
His poor broken heart mended
Little knowing how much he’d soon pay

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Now this boy was naïve, had no clue
What this sweet dream he’d found might yet do
Did not know that her kiss
Would taste like a cat’s piss
That each look, feel, each touch, he’d yet rue

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He did not understand about play
How a woman can have fun and still stay
With a man she won’t bed
With no love in her head
Just the money, possessions, the pay

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It was always indulgent and flawed
Burning brightly his need for her soared
But she drank from his flame
Knowing she was to blame
When it waned as a new day here dawned

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So he turned tail and bolted for home
To the farm, where the bush creatures roam
He hid far from the strife
And got on with his life
No more woman, no love… just this poem