What more entertaining way could I have enjoyed the eve of New Year’s Eve?
Last evening was multi-gifted journalist Lynn Bronstein’s birthday.
When you read the mesmerizing, cleverly poignant lyrics to her “The Single Woman Song,” you will wonder, as do I, how one so sheerly talented could have eluded the golden glories of marriage.
An enterprising/performing poetess, a captivating musician as well as a quintessential journalist, Ms. Bronstein brings a gift list to her listeners that has grown increasingly rare in a glossy galaxy of high-tech.
Happily, Ms. Bronstein was convinced by her audience of hungry professionals to retrieve her favorite guitar and reprise “The Single Woman Song.”
All of us smilingly drank in its inescapably ironic lyrics for the first time.
No doubt she would enjoy performing it before audiences where she does not know everyone’s name.
Just in time for your New Year’s Eve celebration, here is Ms. Bronstein’s present to us:
The Single Woman Song
You’ve read it in Time and in Newsweek
I’ll never get married, oh, no,
I’m much more likely to be blown to bits
By a dashing Al Queda Commando.
No honeymoon cruise in store for me,
No hopes of last-minute romance.
On a cruise with no groom
I’ll head for my doom
On a luxury liner near France.
But Momma, don’t worry
I’ve got an idea.
Why should I prepare to be dead?
When some handsome young terrorist grabs me
I’ll just propose marriage instead!
That dude doesn’t know what he’s in for.
I still won’t give up my career.
And when he comes home from his terrorizing
I’ll be out with the girls for a beer!
He’ll ask me, why did we get married.
Am I just along for the ride?
And I’ll quickly explain
The statistics that claim
I’m more likely to be a hostage’
Than a bride!
But Momma don’t worry
I’ve got an idea.
I’m sure that you’ll think it’s swell.
I’ll run off with a mystery foreigner
And he’ll try to blast me straight to hell.
There’s so many of us who are single.
It’s society’s problem you know.
Our free choices they dread
So they wish we were dead
With statistics to prove that it’s so.
They call it a Fatal Attraction
If we feel both power and lust.
My lust’s driving me to distraction!
Fleeing from a thought-police bust.
But Momma, don’t worry
I’ve got an idea.
And here’s how I’ll pledge my troth.
Soon we’ll both be free—
I’ll shoot him. He’ll shoot me.
And the world will be rid of us both!
So that is my modest proposal.
I’m sure that you’ll all heed the call.
All the old maids will marry all the terrorists —
And the world will be rid of us all!
© 1997, 2015 Lynne Bronstein
Ms. Bronstein may be contacted at tanysare@earthlink.net
