How Not To Chat-up A Girl

a poem by tobias kerins, UK

I don’t like to boast, but I suggest a toast
To my brilliance and my success
A master tactician, a real magician
But I really don’t want to digress

Oh yes my dear, is it not clear
That I am the Jack of all trades
Whatever I hold, it turns to gold
I bathe in the accolades

I am the master, and don’t do disaster
Never settle for second best
There is no one finer, from Chile to China
Who is with my talents blessed

I’m beyond compare, so debonair
Everyone bows to my feet
The classiest act, now that’s a fact
People they just can’t compete

I am totally red-blooded, the classics I’ve studied
Many languages, I’m able to speak
Opera I’ve sung, it rolls off the tongue
In Latin and ancient Greek

Tall and good looking, an agency booking
Every night everyday every week
They can’t get enough, I’m their bit of rough
Six pack and an awesome physique

At sport I’m the best, it’s no contest
The podium’s my rightful place
Think they can catch, they’ve met their match
Like the Bolt, they’ll have to chase

When you’re as great as me, can’t you see
It’s hard not to take the praise
I’m great and clever, you’ll never say never
I’ll let you, one of these days

Will a Note be Left?
The Maltese Falcon Vol III
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