There once lived a man
His name was Stan
The guy was a handsome fellow
Famous for eyes that sparkled yellow
For him suitors would come from far away lands
The only issue? Well, Stan had two left hands.
All his life, Stan felt odd, abominable
He’d go and sit at parks and watch the happy couples
How they’d link their limbs with ease
All the while, he kept his hands in his fleece
He thought, surely it’d be uncomfortable
For him, hand holding would be impossible
So one by one, his suitors all left
Stan gave up hope, he felt bereft,
that was of course, till Stan met Sam,
at the market, buying some ham.
Their hands brushed reaching for the same plate of parma,
Stan sighed and whispered, “I know my eyes are pretty, but don’t even bother”
She glanced up, affronted, “Excuse me? I don’t understand.”
Stan replied, “I said, don’t bother ma’am, I’ve got two left hands.”
She looked into eyes and said, “my name is sam and
look, I don’t want to hold your hand,
But just so you know, both your thumbs pointing east,
wouldn’t affect hand holding in the very least!”
He showed her his palms as his lip quivered “It wouldn’t?”
She took them in hers and giggled, “It couldn’t.”
So he ran to the park and held hands with someone named Cam,
and realised he didn’t really care that he didn’t have a right hand
