An adieu

There was once a young man 

Who accused me of being

A humongous pile of cheesy love songs

With hair like straw infused with

Apple juice from expired cartons

He went on to say that drunken mice

Would suffer indigestion from the cheese

And throw up all over my hair.

(Here I am not clear if mice throw up at all)

Now to him I say, Aye, If cheese must

Go, go it will. Though its delightful 

Tang and silken heaven will dearly 

Be missed, the 'L' word shall be uttered 

With utmost discretion, this I promise.

And here it is, an adieu, to all thick

Clumpy and sordid. I ought to close 

This now, bare are the words I type

(Irony is that you try to change 

for the one you love)

Also, note I may have exaggerated a little :)