The Ecphorizer

Ballad of Unrequited Love
Burt Schmitz

Issue #18 (February 1983)



Requite! Requite!                            Beneath the bleak
My groin doth ache                            My tears to shed
   to underwrite.                                A wreath of tire
                                                              To mark my head.
And spangs my heart
   Besmooched bestride                  And my bier
Gasps grip my gizzard                       Shall bottled be
   Deep weeps inside!                     But wiser coors
                                                               Dead soldiered me.
But saline shall
   My lone love weep;                       My eyes raise up
Peeps deep the creep                        What do I see?
   Of restless sleep,                           Erected now
And though I cheaply                         My senses be!
   Reap my keep
Intestickles shall                               Yon shrimpen girl
   Thwart my sleep!                              with sardine bait!
                                                            Come! Let us fling
Where odontious                                 A muddly mate!
   odalisques abound -
      O toothsome morsels,               The tentman knows
     Where to be found?                       We too must fade -
                                                            Wine, women, song
Besearched besmirched                   of life he made.
   From bay to shore
Searched Emery's ville                  Beshrimpen she
   With Al's visor.                                  A Mensan not -
                                                            But plain Jane he
Where Homer Khayyaked                A pepper pot!
   With his booze
On seas of ruby, yet                        And down I sink
   Leslie's, ooze.                                  So wetly west
                                                            Bekelped with hoodwink
But nought did aught                         on her breast.
   But mud befind
To feverly cleaver                            My love requited,
   My burning mind!                            My groin doth ache!
                                                            From overplaying
Bereft the sun fogged                        At the rake.
   smogly red
      To set o'er my love                    Ah, now the question
         that had gone dead.                 From above
Alone and muddied evermore      To die of unrequited love?
   I sank me down
      by golden shore.                        A bee or not a bee?
                                                               I'll take -
                 The pot of honey
                    For my cake.

                Tho Herpiated you become
                                                            Far better than die
                                                                of chaste boredom.


Moral   - Tis better to have freeloved and loused
   Than never to have frisked at all!

Contributor Profile

Burt Schmitz

Burt Schmitz has drawn a number of covers for The Ecphorizer as well as providing interior art. He recently worked on a large illustrated tourist map for a Silicon Valley promotion firm.




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