My friend, a girl of twenty-five, as she says
Often gives me many miscall and irritates.
When I call her back she fires incessant
Just like certain murderer just visited her tent.
One day she rang me up and remained silent
The reason of her silence I could not understand
It was then her call ‘not miscall’ come to stay for long
As though ‘the big bang’ or ‘the Big Ben’ living long
‘My marriage is arranged’ she said, ‘do not get worried,
What on earth did you so far to get my lovely little hand?
The one that has come into my life has a name
He has his business and has permanent aim and fame
Though you have, just like a child, roamed around me
Had never any gut to love me or propose for me
Well, I have made my lists so simple, sincere and clear
Obtaining them for me, as I see, is your love for me, sure
The boy is learned, you know, her father really gentle
They are just asking for one hundred kilos of gold, simple
I know you are able to make for me this, this I am saying so
Because you are a very son of a merchant of gold, as you know
And a beautiful bed just like that of the one the great Napoleons had
You have the whole go-downs of best of the best of beds of any land
Vest and vestments together might cost a few million thousand
I know being a millionaire this is nothing for you but a pea-nut
I wait for your brim-filled contributions’, she said and her phone she cut
I stood perplexed and did not know what should I do at this time congest
‘Thank you sister’, I said, when I purposefully rang her up again
To make my point so crystal clear and genuinely genuine
‘I have done all the arrangements as per your precise directions.
For my own marriage with my fiancé, I said, with affections…