Being a male has its obligations.
We’re partial to pleasure, and expectations
That our libido rules us abound:
Whenever we can – females to hound.

Our manhood confirmed one way or t’other;
In love, drink or war never to bother
With moderation, but praise the excess
That shapes and determines our gender’s success.

Thus we manage to hide our innermost selves,
Masking the nature that within us dwells.
Pretend to be something we mostly are not,
‘Tis seldom we yield and admit a soft spot.

But if we do so, and lose our stance,
Fortuna at once seizes her chance.
A lucky woman gets our attention,
And lucky the man to receive her affection.