When I am Fred my darling,
I'll sing a different key.
Testosterone injections mean a tenor soon I'll be.
My breasts they will be flattened,
No bulges 'neath my coat,
And plastic surgeons magic
Will equip me with a choat.
I'll chat up all the ladies,
As down the street I go;
They'll shake their heads and mutter
"What the hell is wrong with Flo?"
Any similarity to the following are purely intentional.
Song
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.~ Christina Rossetti
Wednesday, April 17, 2002