Murphy's Bar

by kiwisteveh

Husband and WIfe Talking Contest Winner

O, precious wife, my only love, my sweetheart so sublime,
If it should please your heart, I crave a moment of your time.

O, husband mine, so sweet, so strong, the finest in the land,
My time is yours, as is my heart, your wish is my command.

Most truly said, my turtle-dove; how Providence is kind
To grant this humble person a soulmate so refined.

How may I please you, darling man, the apple of my eye?
Whate'er you seek I'll strive to find or in the seeking die.

'Tis Sunday afternoon, my pet; the game begins at three.
I plan to watch at Murphy's Bar, on his big-screen TV

To Murphy's Bar again, my dear, the third time there this week?
I trust high definition is the only thrill you seek.

O, Buttercup, what can you mean? Your words cut like a knife.
Suspicion's unattractive in the better kind of wife.

You know full well of what I speak; that barmaid known as June.
She's bustin' out all over, and I know you love that tune.

O, Pretty Pumpkin, it's so sad to hear such jealous raving.
You surely know your gorgeous self's the only one I'm craving.

Your words ring false, it's sad to say. To your eternal shame,
As we made love last Tuesday night, you whimpered out her name.

A cry of ecstasy, perhaps, a moan of sheer delight.
“I swoon, I swoon,” that's what you heard, as your love gave me flight.

It must have been a short-lived cry, if ecstasy was in it.
As I recall, the whole affair took less than one brief minute.

Impugn my manhood, if you must, but what most makes me grieve
Is the foundless allegation that I would, my life, deceive.

Munchausen couldn't lie like you, you slimy little toad.
In all my life I've never heard, of bulldust, such a load.

My Sweet, you wound me with such names, it is a baseless slander.
Such sauce will stick, you jealous cow, to goose as well as gander.

I have it from the horse's mouth, on good authority,
For while you flirt at Murphy's Bar, why, Murphy's here with me!

That gormless clod, that Fenian troll, that lout of little learning?
I see in love, as in fine ale, his taste is not discerning.

I need a man who satisfies, who makes me feel complete.
He's twice the man you ever were; I don't mean just his feet!

You harridan, you vicious hag, your morals run to scarlet.
Why, Murphy's welcome to your wiles, you sleazy, faithless harlot.

The pot may call the kettle black, but hark, is that a car?
Goodbye, my cuckold, don't wait up, I'm off to Murphy's Bar.

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