I admit this is the weirdest poem I’ve ever written. Forgive me,Robert Frost….
To be sung to the tune of “Nothing Could be Finer Than to be in Carolina!”
Nothing could be finer
than to be a dress designer
a hum di-i-i-i-in-ger.
Dealing with disaster,
sewing faster faster faster
on my Si-i-i-i-in-ger.
Nothing that they do can ever h-e-e-e-ex me
even fashion stalkers cannot ve-e-e-e-ex me.
Marketing their copies
to the stoners and hip-hoppies,
they can’t ma-a-a-a-at-ch me
Gleaning all my leavings,
they are surely misconceiving,
They can’t ca-a-a-a-a-tch me.
No one in the industry can best me.
All their machinations cannot test me.
That’s why nothing could be finer
than to be this dress designer
I give wa-a-a-a-ar-ning!!
for no one can beat me
and for sure they can’t repeat me