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by Ezrain
Rated: E · Other · Other · #1027366
Glory to this golden ring, That I will receive on my wedding day
The Jubilee of Impregnable Doom

Hark! The choristers sing!
Glory to this golden ring,
That I will receive on my wedding day,
I do not love him, but what the hey?

Yes, it is the jubilee of impregnable doom,
The kind where the nefarious groom,
Just stares at you from dull eyes.
Tch, what a big surprise.

As I lay on the wood,
Looking like any girl should,
Freshly slaughtered, served for dinner,
I ask myself “Was I the winner?”

As we proceed down the aisle,
Me, queen of the Nile
The men carry me between them,
The groom stares blankly ahead,
Eyes stone cold dead,
Not believing I am truly his.

The Padre says a prayer,
And I declare,
“I will never touch another man,
I will feel no warmth from their hand.”

The lights! The crowds!
My body in a white shroud!
At my jubilee! The jubilee of impregnable doom!
The men drink and laugh,
And hook each other with the gaff.

My carriage approaches,
The driver does not like the roaches,
Who eat you inside out when your dead,
Starting with the brains in your head.

As we approach the after-party,
People cry and say “oh lawdy!”
How could such a sweet girl,
End with THAT sort of twirl?

Yes, I shall be missed by the men,
No longer kissed by them,
Oh well,
Pack it up and go to the red jail,
I’m sure I’ll cheat on him once or twice,
After all, the pastor did not say, “play nice”,
Just to look twice before crossing the street.

“’Til death do us part,”
that broke his heart,
Well, here I am to play,
Never to go away.
© Copyright 2005 Ezrain (ezrain at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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