The Ballad of the Bobbitts
Lorena Bobbitt, outraged wife,
Took the family carving knife,
Gently lifted up the sheet,
And left her husband incomplete.
Lorena's action, less than tender,
Made her famous to her gender.
Far and wide they tell her story,
Which is novel, although gory.
As the global press corps gaped,
She testified that she'd been raped.
That's why, declared the saddened maid,
She'd felt compelled to use the blade.
And why she rushed out of the house
With what she'd severed from her spouse.
(Before she drove too very far,
She tossed it blindly from her car.)
In the midst of this ado
Appeared the local rescue crew.
Summoned on that bloody night
To deal with Mr. Bobbitt's plight.
They searched, and by the roadside found
A piece of Bobbitt on the ground.
Then a surgeon, bless his heart,
Reattached the missing part.
I've tried to find to no avail,
A moral for this modern tale.
(A friend, it's true did fax me one.
It goes like this: Don't cut and run.)
This case suggests, though, I'd allege,
In marriage, women have the edge.


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