Ode To Uncle Henry

Dear George Creel,
May I appeal to your sense of sagacity,

that sporting gumption for fancied disfunctions?
ie, see me, fool like your lad Jimmie

will-o’-the-wisp when given my druthers

(don’t see the girls winking at each other)

what’s a poor boob to do,
linger on in a bachelor’s brood?
lady killer don’t thrill her
but 
no bread means an empty bed

here lies the gimmick in it:
a balcony scene is too trite to believe
but men on the ground are a bore to be ignored
Uncle Henry, lay it on me, blunt and cold

are lovers only bought and sold?