The Woollen Coat
I loved her for me our love was my tool,
I bought her a fine coat made of sheep's wool.
Love's the way she appreciated me,
She wore my coat every single day, she
Loved the item. We would hold hands quite tight
And the way she thought I was always right.
Even with her father I was still right,
We didn't always agree, but he'd tool
Everything I said. His trousers wore tight
And his belly would surge over the wool
Of his jumper. It was because of she
That he thoroughly even trusted me.
She was the only way he trusted me,
And the way he thought I was always right.
Thus, nice to be told that I'm wrong by she,
It would work well as a correction tool,
Since her coat was made of expensive wool,
And her leather belt she would buckle tight.
Every Winter I would hug her quite tight,
And gently pull her figure close to me,
In Winter she was grateful for the wool
Of the coat that she loosely would wear right
Over her stylish clothes, since style was tool
To being fashionably dressed and since she
Always was. My coat was a statement she
Made of our love, that she would hold to tight
Since both for me and her, our love was tool.
But this sort of love was much more for me
And it was nice being told I'm always right,
To see her wear my coat made of sheep's wool
Every day. Eventually, I wore wool
Too. The material well worn by she,
Her friends would always complement her right
About how my gift was quite snug and tight
And fashionable. So it convinced me
My gift was an asset to her, a tool
To fashion. Wool, a fashionable tool,
She would pull off Fashion Week, owed to me,