The impresario’s impressive and imperialistic chalice of beauty owned it And made no bones about it All the documents were signed properly Which thusly did make it her property She used it for reasons and purposes for which it was made Until the music might be made to fade
From the costume of her countenance did the lovely’s corsage come to fall upon the ground
As any man would swear to be the permanence finally she hath found But she suffered not for there were men clawing and clamoring to pick it up They were slightly built or short and some were very tall Yes, the imperialistic aura and her glow proved she owned it all
It was her birthright She was born with it But never to suffer scorn for it As her sheep were shorn of their dignity and/or pride When the crown of luxury took every royal stride And deemed a new subject to bid her every call For this was a lady who truly had it all