Renaissance Man

I may never be a painter

With pigment, shell, and brush

My angels seem to swagger

And my devils seem to blush

And I think I'll never fancy

Being scared of poison dust

But I've tried it, and may try it yet again

I don't think I could embroider

On a swatch of linen fine

My patience seems to wander

As I paint each tiny line

Though I rather like the colors

I just never have the time

But I've tried it, and may try it yet again

Well I thought of learning fighting

But I haven't got a truck

And I always get a bruising

Even if my shield arm's up

And I'm still a little nervous

That they make you wear a cup

But I've tried it, and may try it yet again

I've puttered in the kitchen

With a dish or two I'll cope

But after ten or twenty-five

I reach my end of rope

I am only good with dishes

When I'm rubbing them with soap

But I've tried it, and may try it yet again

Well I must be good at something

Something rare and undefined

Like raising bats for hunting

Maybe adding spice to wine

And perhaps I'll be a laurel

Or I'll put it all behind

But I'll try it, and may try it yet again

Oh, I will try it, and may try it yet again