Hoboken Henry met a Jersey City gal.
She invited him to supper, said to take the new light rail.
His heart was in a flutter, was dizzy with glee.
Thinkin’ bout her lovely dress he slapped himself on the knee.
Friends of his who knew of the date said it wouldn’t work.
This gal was some kind of princess and Henry was a jerk.
Poor dresser.

So on the day of his dinner plans Henry took special care
To look his best and brightest, got New York clothes to wear.
Taught himself a couple jokes, was sure to read all the news.
That way he’d know what to say and wouldn’t get confused.
He practiced breathing in and out so to stay relaxed.
Kept his new manicured hands in the pockets of his slacks.
Looked sharp.
Man’s man.
Woman’s man.
Man of the world.

The date was upon him so he headed on out.
Had to find that light rail, the train that she did tout.
On Observer Highway he walked and he observed.
He asked a man and a lady, they thought he was absurd.
No one knew of any light rail train, but each would take a guess.
They had him walking up and down, North, South, East, then West.
Blood boilin’
Fed up
New shirt messed up

Hoboken Henry met a Jersey City gal.
Invited him to supper but he couldn’t find the rail.
Spent a day to better himself so he could be deserving.
Wound up eating alone again, another single serving.
And all of his improvements really were for naught.
A plain obnoxious angry man was just the man she sought.

© 2024 Matthew P. Hanley