Warning to Cupid
Put away your arrows, boy—
Your potion's pointless on a man
Ten years your toy
And hers,
Since she is mine—
But if she tells me that you plan
To make my blood your potion's source—
Of course you can,
I'm hers,
And she is mine.
Still, you should know that potion's force
Will bring to no one else my joy.
They will, of course,
Be hers—
But she is mine.