Oh, woe is me, I’m getting quite lonely.
Pray tell, will I find my one and only?

There have been lovers – a revolving door,
but I want The Real Thing, I want much more.

Simon, sweet boy, loved me for my dimple,
but he had to go, he was far too simple.

Rob was a charmer, he stole my young heart;
I shed many tears when he said we’d part.

Golfer Gordon was a friendly laddie, 
but he just wanted me as his caddie. 

Art was creative, he drew me right in;
too clever with words, it was only spin.

Angelo wooed with his foreign tongue, 
transported by lust, all our clothes undone.

My chorister darling made my heart sing,
but briefly, briefly, ’twas just a fun fling.

Tyson was one who liked me to be near, 
but he talked and talked, really chewed my ear.

Jim was athletic, his body was stunning.
He threw me over, he’s likely still running. 

Botanist Herb was a gardener rare.
I am a sneezer – I got out of there.

Clifford, dear Cliff, took me right to the edge;
I’d jump at the chance – he offered no pledge.

Tailor Tim was funny, he had me in stitches.
He became a nudist – never wore his britches.

A magician next, and as I had feared,
it wasn’t long before he disappeared.

Plumber Paul caused me emotional pain
when our relationship went down the drain.

The violent one smacked me in the head, 
yet I’m still alive and he is now dead.

Ray brought sunshine to my dreary life,
but shame, oh! deep shame, he had a wife.

Oliver was okay, but here’s the twist –
he wanted too much, he had a long list. 

Charles was chubby, he liked lots to eat,
so I chickened out, preferring lean meat.

Rex’s demeanour had a regal air, 
but he was a scoundrel. Life isn’t fair!

I dallied awhile with carpenter Fred, 
but he was just carving a notch on his bed.

The Chef fed me treats of delightful taste
– I fattened up and it all went to waist.

Peter the poet impressed me with verse.
Poor man was so old, he left in a hearse.

Is this really to be my lonely fate –
to come up with duds, each date after date?

When will I meet the man I will marry?
Where is my special Tom, Dick or Harry?

Should I keep trying, continue this dance?
Think I’ll stay at home and read a Romance.

Or write one myself, now that I could do,
I’ll invent my hero… Perhaps it is you?