Soldier's Wife

Not to long ago, I had a beau who was into medieval reinactments and the SCA. He had a lovely hand-made suit of armor and was going to an event where he and his friends were going to spar in a tavern. He asked me to go along to take pictures for their SCA website. When his time came to spar he got hit hard in the shoulder, and it dislocated, unexpectedly and painfully. Now, imagine us -- he at 6'2" tall, and I'm only 5' tall. I drove a Geo Metro at and had to gingerly get him into my car and take him to the ER while his armor was still on. This is a song/poem that I created after the event. (If you're wondering, he and I had already broken up when this happened, but remained friends, and he does enjoy the song.)

Soldier’s Wife

I was a lonely maiden
sitting by a lily pad
hoping and a prayin’
that I’d find a lad.

Along came a fella
in a suit of green
saying, “I promise you if you kiss me dear,
I’ll treat you like the queen.”

I didn’t stop to ponder,
for I found it grand,
to be living as a wealthy lass,
ruling my own land.

But it didn’t take Culloden,
or the Foggy Dew
to have me trompin’ through the field
pickin’ up after you.

On the morn you met your foe
you raised your mighty sword
your shoulder jumped its faulty ship
and then you cursed, “Dear Lord!”
The surgeon pumped you full of juice
and popped that bugger in,
but to care for you for a month or two,
that would do me in.

Aye, to care for you for a month or two,
THAT would do me in.

As a lowly soldier’s wife,
things may turn out so.
I’ve packed me bags and to the hills
tomorrow I must go.

Advice to all young lassies,
before I hit the road:
Sometimes a man may be a prince
but a frog is still a toad.

Aye, sometimes a man may be a prince,
but a frog is still a toad.