Whilst I strolled one summer Sunday, came a tree within my reach.
Overarched like an umbrella, I there picked myself a peach.
From the path a gentle lady did observe my moral breach.
I approached her hoping she would not my character impeach.
In her hand, she wielded artfully a flowerèd umbrella.
I considered that a whack from it would likely hurt a fella’,
Whether it should land upon my pate or glance off my patella.
I began with peach in hand to serenade her a cappella:
“Your umbrella like a sword has pierced my heart forevermore.
Take this peach, a token of my love, the first of many more.
Take my hand, and you and I through life, this wide world will explore.”
“Take a hike”, she said, “For I have seen your kind of man before.”
Oh, Alas alack, I failed to win that signorina bella.
Had I though, our story surely would have made a great novella.
Take a tip from me before you go and pick your Dardanella,
And avoid one with a heart unfriendly as a closed umbrella