What cruel and vile lady I know of
Her games I've never seen before I knew
What could be called a passion or just love
I know it all too well although I'm new
On every night that I get home I feel
The aches and pains of her affection, though
I think about her touch at every meal
And cannot wait to get back to her, no!
I must resist, I think - as I lie down
to sleep, the next day thoughts of this are gone
And I can't wait to be back at her gown
Enduring pain with pleasure, am I wrong?
With night, again, I ponder - who is this -
This mistress I call boxing really is?
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