Volume 9, Number 47, 2006

The Modern Trap
By the late Billy Lambert

In olden times as a man came by
If the lady wanted to catch his eye
She knew for the moment she’d have him stopped
If a bit of embroidery she dropped
And it always worked for a gentleman
Was bound to fall for that artful plan
Though a ‘kerchief small could be gathered up
In the jerk of a tail of a lamb or pup

But today the pretense is a greater curse
The lady has merely to drop her purse
And it’s woe to the fellow that’s passing by
Who must pick up the dozens of things which fly
He must leap for the lipstick and rouge and cash
The handkerchief, papers and various trash
Which a woman gathers, her comb and then
The shopping token and fountain pen
He must scurry for letters the wind blows around
The bobbie pins scattered all over the ground
And if he does it as quick as he can
Without asking her name, he’s a married man