One October, losing his job, He was drinking heavily, Living in his mothers house, Wild at weekends and sleeping all week. He believed he was right to ask for things To be his and for him alone, And the world wasn't right with him unless His wish was the world's command. Drunk in town one saturday night, He met a tall blonde older girl, In complicated bohemian clothes, She took him home though he was an oaf. Making love was his way of asking her To be his and for him alone, And though she would always act offhand, It appeared that she understood. With the weeks passing by, He began to feel The bad had gone. In her candlelit room, He had found himself, But what about her? Then he noticed something amiss, Other men kept calling around, When, one night, he had his proof, He confronted his liberal love. He believed he was right to tell her She was his and for him alone, And shrugging her shoulders, sad but calm, She informed him that he was wrong. "You don't own me", she sighed, "But I do, I must", he groaned, Then yelled, "Oh what is this liberal love you gave? It's fast, it's wrong." "You don't own me", she sighed, "But I do, I must", he groaned, Then yelled, "What is this liberal love you gave?"