“I’m shopping for my wife,” said he.
“For things she needs immediately.
And while I’m here, I thought I’d get
A special something for my Pet.”
He wandered round the store a while,
And saw things staid. Or infantile.
Then found that he had ambled to
The women’s clothes all starched and new.
His eyes lit up as he assessed
New ways to help his wife get dressed.
In gowns of rough or slinky mein,
In shades from black to tangerine.
He wandered further through the store
Seeking something she’d adore,
High or low or bourgeoisie,
He finally came o’er to me.
“It seemed so simple,” he declared.
“But now I’ve looked, and now I’m scared.
The clothes selection’s vast and mixed,
And I can’t seem to choose betwixt.”
“There’s something that she needed, though,
To wear around her bungalow.
So help me please, I do implore.
There must be something in your store!”
“There’s much to choose from, sir,” I said.
“That’s sure to please your thoroughbred.
But there's one thing I need to know,
Just how big is her bungalow?”