Just once, she says, I’d like a man who could
Exceed my fairly simple standards, which
No one could claim are poorly understood:
Nice buns, a brain, quite tall and filthy rich.
I‘m sure the world is full of men like that,
For otherwise our race would die away!
Except… my searches keep on falling flat,
Requiring me to think they must be gay!
Discovering this curse, I feel I’m bound
Exclusively to help — it could be fun!
Let all those hunky pooftas gather round;
Voraciously I’ll cure them, every one!
Eventually she stops, and faintly sighs.
She yawns, and nods, a slumber shuts her eyes.