Hang on, stitching together your page...
I couldn’t think about that unicorn.
She needs me only when the task is tough,
expects that I’ll extract another thorn.
Is there a point when I’ll have had enough?
So she’s with Einion.
I feel pathetic
but face reality although unpleasant:
a lout he is, but handsome, rich, athletic
where, frankly, I’m a funny-looking peasant.