Thursday, 5 April 2018

The pickings are poor and the crop is lean













It's Miss Bett-ee Davis's birthday today, folks - her 110th, indeed.

All hail!


You rushed away and left this house as empty as can be
And I am like the driftwood in a deadly calm at sea
I can't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but thee
For there is no secret lover that the draft board didn't discover

They're either too young or too old
They're either too gray or too grassy green
The pickings are poor and the crop is lean
What's good is in the Army, what's left will never harm me

They're either too old or too young
So, darling, you'll never get stung
Tomorrow I'll go hiking with that Eagle Scout unless
I get a call from grandpa for a snappy game of chess

They're either too warm or too cold
They're either to fast or too fast asleep
So, darling, believe me, I'm yours to keep
They're isn't any gravy, the gravy's in the Navy

They're either too fresh or too stale
There is no available male
I will confess to one romance I'm sure you will allow
He tried to serenade me, but his voice is changing now

They're either too bald or too bold
I'm down to the wheelchair and bassinet
My heart just refuses to get upset
I simply can't compel it to, with no Marine to tell it to

I'm either their first breath of spring
Or else, I'm their last little fling
I either get a fossil or an adolescent pup
I either have to hold him off or have to hold him up

The battle is on, but the fortress will hold
They're either too young or too old


Ruth Elizabeth "Bette" Davis (5th April 1908 – 6th October 1989)

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