If you’ve ever read the Song of Solomon in the bible—a love poem between two lovers—then you’ve read one of the weirdest books ever. The way the woman is described makes her sound like something only H.P. Lovecraft could conceive of. In fact, this guy may have been writing about Cthulhu. If I told my fiancée that her breasts looked like two deer and her teeth like sheep, I think I’d be sleeping on the couch for a month.
Let’s look at a few choice verses:
- # Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.
So, she has eyes like doves. Red and on both sides of her head? Her hair is like goats: smelly, charging down a hill and prone to chewing on tires?
- Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet
Man, those are some thin lips! A thread? That would be like kissing nothing.
- Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.
Just how long is this chick’s neck? A thousand shields can hang from it? This is Sparta!
- Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.
So her breasts have small horns, are covered in brown fur and hang down to the flowers? Hot!
- Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
Stand back; this one’s a drooler and her clothes have been in the cedar closet all year.
- A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
Nowadays, we solve the “spring shut up, fountain sealed” issue with a healthy squirt of lube.
- My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.
If this is referring to one of those Two Girls and a Cup videos, I’m gonna puke.
- I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
But he left $100 on the nightstand.
- Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.
Sounds like someone’s been doing body shots!
- This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.
Yearly mammograms are important in the early detection of grape-like lumps.
- I am a wall, and my breasts like towers: then was I in his eyes as one that found favour.
What kind of cup size is that? Is it measured in exponents?
- His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
In California, that’s called fake and bake tanning.
- His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.
Milky eyes? Where I come from, we call that cataracts.
- His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
Assuming she is referring to the cheeks on his head. There’s this thing called a washcloth, and regular usage prevents fungal buildup from becoming a garden.
- His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
A blue stomach is the sign of congestive heart failure. Might want to give the doc a call.
- His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
Those are some fancy prosthetic limbs he’s sporting!