Arthur had his table
Round and smooth-egg-shaped
His sword, a legend and a gift
From a Lady of the Lake

This is no Camelot
Though the scenery's quite medieval
And there is no Excalibur
To be lobbed by lily white hands

Instead, we've our own legends
And mythical women of wisdom and grace
See, there on the horizon
Oh, how shining is her face!

The Lady of the Lip Gloss
Her lips clad in the purest shimmering
petroleum product
Cometh this way

See, her measured, easy step
The confidence she carries
The words she writes,
so circumspect; We sigh

Such a wondrous being cannot be real
But there she is
The glare from her lips
In this hot summer clime,
Where all are sweaty and uncouth
For who cares about appearances here?
She does, and the glow
is shiny enough to blind