For some reason, I felt like a wild man this week, so I read Jack London's classic novel, The Call of the Wild. London certainly writes eloquently about his own wild man, as embodied in the dog, Buck, but I'm not sure old Jack ever experienced the full brunt of domestic life (though he did nearly sail around the world at one point and seemed to have a successful marriage). Still, I enjoyed The Call of the Wild, but thought I'd write about the real call that most men experience.
The Call of the Wife
Oh, the call of the wife is a clear call,
It's wild and it's true and it's tried.
The call of the wife is a mating call
That cannot be denied.
Yes, the wife often calls in the morning:
"Get out of that bed, you louse!"
And she reminds her hubby and children
That she's the ruler of her house.
But the call of the wife ain't a burden,
Not even when feeding the cat,
Nor after an evening of passion when asked:
"Can't you do any better than that?"
Oh, a man may wander in pack or herd,
May endure harsh weather and strife,
But no matter how many sirens may call,
He responds to the call of the wife.
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