Circus Love

"Last call," announced the barkeep and then their eyes did meet,
Betty the Bearded Lady and Tom the 4-inch Freak.

Tom lowered his voice and made a pass, "What are you doing later?"
Betty said, as she stroked her beard, "Nothing, sweet potater."

People pointed. Jokes were made. But it fell on four deaf ears.
Tom thrust his tiny shoulders back and ignored the painful jeers.

"Betty," he said, "the world can be such a cruel unfeeling place."
She said, "I know, my little punkin," and kissed his tiny face.

She carried him through the parking lot to the woods that lay beyond.
Never before had either felt such an instant common bond.

"Betty," he said gazing down at his tiny platform shoe,
"Tonight I would like nothing more than to make sweet love to you."

She said, "I'm a virgin."
He said, "So am I."

She said, "Don't you think that's weird?"
He said, "Not really. I'm four inches tall and, you know, you got the beard."

She pressed him close against her bosom. He inhaled her perfumed air.
He covered her neck with little hickies and stroked her facial hair.

The moonlight danced off his cowboy hat. She giggled and she swayed.
She undid his tiny rhinestone belt. A cricket looked away.

She set him down, unzipped her dress still tipsy from the booze.
She tripped pulling off her panties and crushed him with her shoes.

Bearded Betty never married.

Her mistake sure took its toll.
She still owns that pair of shoes

And Tom's still in her soul.

I wish I could take credit for that. I can't. It's from the genius that is Paul Gilmartin.
Or listen to it if you want.