I’ve bin told a time or two,
that I ain’t all that bad.
But on the other hand, I’ve heard,
the opposite, in fact,
I’d rate myself as middling
to mildy under par.
But then you strolled into my life,
like pride before the fall.
I made a promise to you,
that I’d never tell a lie.
It’s the hardest thing to tell you,
but I’m gonna have to try.
I’m not worthy.
Maybe it’s true, I have a cause,
to blow my own brass trumpet.
But next to you I pale and fade,
I’m not worth a two bit bet.
Your beauty, grace, the whole shebang,
puts me squarely in my place,
‘n’ I’m gonna have to tell you,
tell it to your pretty face.
©1.8.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman