If marriage were like football
There would be no single men.
Every year they’d scout for wives
And draft a girl or ten
Then sign them to a contract
For a couple wondrous years
And give them shirts with numbers
And use them to sell beers.
We’d all have favorite teams of wives
Like the Ashleys or the Sophies
Who live in different cities
And try to win us trophies,
And when the best turn 40
(Or sometimes just 34)
We’d trade them off to other teams
And draft a dozen more.
If marriage were like football
Maybe life would be ok,
But instead it seems to be more like
The WNBA.
