My dear's a deer

what a novel idear

having a deer not a dear

makes me a bit queer

but

what's really quite queer

if you'll stay 'round to hear

isn't my dear deer

but instead

me

 

I've sworn off men

to Hades with women

Time and again,

Apollo can win ‘em.

I don’t want a hen

Or some guy in my pen

Let me tend my garden

I am my own guardman

Thank you very much.

 

I’m an ace with a bow

Enemies are quick to go

When I shoot my arrow

So

If ever I say no

And some bloke’s going too slow

My arrow’s have been known to grow

Right out someone’s back

After all,

No means No.

 

I’ve earned the nickname the Arrow Ace

It uses my archery skill as its poker face

But really the name’s an interface

Between my archery talent

And my need for space

My hatred of first base

My mortification when facing embrace

The lack of attraction that allows for my pace

 

You get it?

I’m aroace!