No—not the kind that swings on branches;
Or lives in a cage at the zoo;
But the kind that swings on instruments,
Making music, just for you.
I will briefly describe the four various styles
From which we all can choose;
And although you walk a hundred miles,
You’ll find none who could fill their shoes.
First of all, there’s the English economy-size;
With tambourine in hand, he sings.
Dark brown hair, and big brown eyes;
Happiness to all he brings.
With a Manchester accent, so thick and smooth,
And a voice that is dreamy-sweet;
His music hath charm—believe me—to soothe
Even the old “savage beast.”
If English models don’t suit your taste,
There’s a Texan, so handsome and tall.
No one could walk past him in haste.
When I saw him, in love I did fall.
With a green wool hat, propped so cutely up there,
At the top of his towering frame;
Showing off so gayly his thick dark hair;
Oh, Texan! (What’s his name?)
Then, for those who don’t fancy an accent;
Be it Texas, or English, or what;
There’s a blonde, with a sweet dimpled cheek,
Who cares, if you get in a spot.
With deep, dark eyes, and a cute, rounded nose,
And a mind that sees all of life’s gifts;
He’s a Monkee who thinks, and wears groovy clothes,
And our sadness he often lifts.
Now comes the one that’s so hard to describe;
But—despite that—so easy to love.
He’s so full of energy; so much alive,
That for him I thank stars above.
With touseled [sic] curls about his head,
And a smile upon his face,
His laughter spins a golden thread
For all the human race.
Now I hope you’ll pick the type
That’s really right for you;
If you don’t like these four, don’t gripe—
Just take a trip to the zoo!
—Paula Marmie,
Denver, Colorado
