She told him he was fainéant,
He said that she was puerile;
She said he was a recreant,
He said, “You’re pulsatile.”
She said, “You are a belletrist!
You up for conjugality?”
He said, “I am an amorist,
And love connubiality.”
And deep within their macarism
They felt felicific:
A species of polypsychism
Utterly salvific
^Standing Ovation^ Inspired poetic lexigraphy – well writ.
Thank you, sir.
I dropped my dictionary on my foot in a paroxysm of lexicography when I read this. Bravo.
By the transitive property, people who love words should end up with other people who love words.
Or something.
LOL! The Bard would’ve loved you.