Nothing would ever need to be said,
For people to flock to me,
To hear the story,
Of how I got a pumpkin for a head,
No need for style,
My jack-o-lantern smile,
Will get them to stay,
At least for a little while,
I knew someone who drew a lady on the wall,
With that he won the love of all,
I'll always be his rival but never his equal,
Until I have a pumpkin for a head,
My friends would stop mid-conversation,
To admire his portrait of a woman,
I thought they would stumble and fall,
As they turned away from me,
One who is made of flesh and blood,
For his lovely lady on the wall,
I remember when he recited poetry,
How many lines did he commit to memory?
Nevermind, his audience would find more mystery,
In one who has a pumpkin for a head,
I'd have a seat at the table,
Where they all would gather,
Not for the travelling musician,
Nor any gallant fellow,
But for me they would offer water,
Though I would not be able to drink,
I would not need any art,
To win their hearts,
I would not need to master,
Any kind of wit or charm,
To earn their love,
So what is the harm,
In having a pumpkin for a head?
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