By the time you swear you’re his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying –
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

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More from Dorothy Parker

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Roumania.


Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Every year, back comes Spring,
with nasty little birds yapping
their fool heads off and the ground
all mucked up with plants.

Hollywood money isn’t money. It’s congealed snow, melts in your hand, and there you are.

It costs me never a stab or squirm
to tread by chance upon a worm
“Aha, my little dear,” I say,
“Your clan will pay me back one day.”