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SANFORD STOCKTON, III
Husband, lover, citizen, promoter of life
He was a real good fella all along
When angels called, he joined them with a song
Newspapers' busy columns sang him praise
reflecting on his charitable days.
That's what the public thought, but there's a catch!
His boisterous libido had no match
The married women, maidens, widow lot
His frolics set propriety at naught.
The village where he lived was far away
The sprawling fields replete with softest hay
He took advantage of the hay's appeal
Deflowering local maidens there for real.
Cuckolded husbands have declared a war
The maidens' fathers wished him dead, and more
The widows he deceived have sworn revenge
Their sullied honor had to be avenged.
Our fellow was a teacher at pre-school
His pesky students loved to break the rules
He never punished them, he was so kind
He had a lusty, honorable mind.
That morning he did not appear for class
He didn't make it for the morning mass
The waiting widow got stood up and hissed
In other words, our Don Juan was missed.
But really, what's afoot? Police were called
His disappearance made the folks appalled
There was no trace of him - they looked for days
Parishioners and poor have sung him praise.
In town, maid Marietta is in tears
She was a true love of his aging years
They wedded secretly, and she was his
at last, ensconced in the connubial bliss.
She made it special, the room, the flowers
Romantic candles spread their scent for hours
The foreplay over, she dropped her laced peignoir
The lusty moans emitted their boudoir.
He was on top of her, his weapon hard
while thanking heaven for his lucky card
But 'fore her flower was forever gone
He turned dead white, his heart gave way and done.
The orphaned students wept, the widows sighed
He was a jolly fellow by their side
The pillar of community; now ghost
His prowess is a legend coast to coast.
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