The female is the safer sex,
Flips through the month’s wet flowers.
And when at last herself to bring
The microscopic hours

You can sit at home and contemplate
The shoulder or the shift
But the female is the last to let
Her life go true adrift. 

If off to work or now to play
Allow the man to follow.
The female, she’s the one who knows
Her life is full, not hollow.

Watch her now select just how
To shade dew lips with red.
She slides her stocking feet from out
Her pumps before her bed.

And when with grace she’s settled down
To marry and to breed,
The female knows the Pall Mall taste
Fulfills her every need. 

And if you find her once or twice
Slipped through her juice with gin,
The female takes her own advice
By morning to begin.

A tight and gone-dry aperture
Encloses later years,
Alone at last to contemplate
The meaning of these fears.

The female’s chance is like a flower
Closed before nightfall.
And with that seal does she devour
The safest choice of all.