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 poisoned 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 colours, 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 shieldarm'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.