On Friday evenings came her friend,
By name of Mary Jane,
Whose beauty was magnificent,
He thought he’d go insane.
With hair like gold and flowing dress,
Of subtle cotton white,
He’d pass on by the little home
From evening through till night.

And yet his heart was aching,
For to look was not enough,
And though their beauty seemed divine,
Each day he felt more rough.
And so he thought a little plan,
To make them look his way;
Preparing hard within his mind,
It only took one day!

Then on Sunday, early noon,
Sometime early in the June,
He rang the doorbell, gave a cough
And waited for them soon.
Every second seemed an hour,
But no answer came.
Screaming, dreaming in his mind,
In his burning brain.

He rang again but no reply,
He felt his hopes just up and die;
As no one came, Anna, Mary Jane,
He walked home with a sigh.
His heart sank deeper, deeper still,
And by the evening, felt so ill,
He could no longer take the pain,
And so he took a hundred pill.

He died alone, so weakly,
And as his body rotted,
No one came to find him dead:
Just nobody had spotted.
As the time went by and by,
I too wondered why and why
No woman had answered his poor call
When all his hopes were high.

I went ringing on that door
And Anna and Mary Jane
Replied me in a second flat
As to the door they swiftly came.
They said “Oh dreamy darling,
We think of you both day and night,
And see you hiding in your home,
Your presence gives us such delight.”

I asked them why they’d not replied
To one who’d come before.
They said “He’d didn’t love us,
He lusted us, no more,
And so we had to turn him down,
So blindly we’d ignore,
And later then we heard the sound:
Him dying to the floor.

“And though we felt some sad remorse
For that poor soul a-dying,
Our fantasies remained with you
When on the bed we were a-lying.”
My heart was glowing and I felt
As I had never felt before.
Thankfully - I thought - I’d made the choice
To ring upon their door!


© 2001 Matt Everett