If only love could be honored.
Oh for a shotgun wedding said the father.
It would be no bother to shun their gun.
Not outdone ,every daughter would have her day, no worrying about her altars bother.
No longer prey, undone, gentleman's foreplay would fade away, resulting In just flowers , courtships and a new son.
Oh for the fun that would be won when Virgin fears no longer flung their pride, oh how happy parents tongues would wag, as cupids arrow wounds another's hide.
Bells would peal and hearts would kneel as boys whom often sung of their illicit romances pride won, now felt the halter of a bride just for fun.
True loves Psalter once again blossoms as marriage propagation would begin to issue force a bride worldwide.
Population growth clearly could confide in a means to start anew, a landslide agrarian system glued by abiding fruitful breeding.
Happenstance proceeding maybe, but one can only hope, perhaps a mighty gentleman pope, born would provide that curative revolution, least true love subsides.
