• For those of you who may not know me,

    I'll vent it all so sit and enjoy a cup of tea.

    I am a romantic,

    Which can make life rather frantic.

    I developed a love for many things,

    I dance, I write, I cook, I sing.

    But worse of all is my need for love,

    Something I always try to take hold of.

    I becoming caring and protective too quickly,

    The emotions always spread too thickly.

    I can share love stories partnered with girl or guy,

    All lovers that eventually went by.

    But of all the partners that I boast,

    There is one that had always interested me the most.

    He keeps a hard, tough shell around him,

    A wall I've longed to slim.

    A mystery to all who meet the man,

    But that is all part of his plan.

    Do not get me wrong, he isn't very tough,

    Though he tends to like it rough.

    He is very flirtatious and has a friendly personality,

    But some dislike his sarcastic mentality.

    He enjoys a good shot of whiskey and glass of beer,

    Drinking with friends until they are queer.

    A proud Irish man, through and through,

    Though Massachusetts is where he grew.

    I shall tell a tale about this amorous drunk,

    A truly gallant punk.

    The Tale:

    An old Irish pub was packed with guests,

    Every last one of them letting go of stress.

    Talk and laughter could be heard,

    Over traditional music that the company preferred.

    Our hero enters, with friends on either side,

    Out for a good time, confidence in his stride.

    Most of the bar greets him as he walks through,

    Those who don't know still notice him too.

    Straight for the bar he goes,

    He and his friends order drink after drink like pros.

    The room smells of whiskey and sweat,

    Every body in the room drinking, no worries to fret.

    Our hero's cheek begin to turn red,

    Not paying much attention to every word he has said.

    His dizzy vision caught sight of a beautiful young thing,

    He strutted over, in hope of a possible fling.

    Leaning his back to the bar, his charm began,

    This causing the anger of another man.

    A large, dark gentleman approached the hero and cursed,

    "I called her first."

    Though a womanizer himself, he would never disrespect,

    "A lady is not an object."

    The bulkier drunk pushed the hero, and made a lot of sound,

    "I want to know the name of the one I'm going to pound!"

    He smirked and stood straight,

    "My name is Hero, a name given to me by my mate."

    "You are a LIAR!"

    Something in the hero snapped, like a wire.

    He punched the man right in the face,

    Causing him to fall, shaking the place.

    The hero looked down at the giant with a glare,

    "Never call me a liar… or else, I swear…"

    And with that the hero took his leave,

    Walking down the cold street,

    Hoping the night air would cool his heat.