by Jesse Coghill
Farmer Poet from Jordan


I took my sweetheart out to eat,
With pretty shoes upon her feet.
Her dress was of the finest silk;
Her face as white as powdered milk,
A bright red ribbon in her hair,
All I could do was sit and stare.
I shyly took her little hand;
My heart was beating like the band.
I pushed my chair next to her side
And asked her if she'd be my bride.
The waiter gave a knowing wink
And asked us what we'd like to drink.
I said we'd have a diet coke;
The waiter thought it was a joke.
With disbelief upon his face,
He said, "This is a fancy place!"
That people with a half a brain
Will order up the best champagne.
I know I made an awful goof,
My sweetie's look was quite aloof.
She said, "I thought you had more class."
Now I will never make a pass,
And she will never be my wife.
Well, that's the story of my life.

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