An early ticket for the Poetry Bus

Hold your head up, I said Hold your head up. This week the Poetry Bus is being driven by the inspirational Argent, who has two types of tickets on sale - one for the carousers at the back of the bus who must compose a comedic poem; the other for those with their heads up against the windows looking mournfully out, who must write a poem on unrequited love.
As I don't do humour, I am afraid I must relate a sad sad tale of a love thwarted by genetics. Hankies at the ready...

Me darlin’ sportin’ Jenny

Her four bulbous noses above her green lips,
Her corpulent, flatulent shape,
Have been said to have launched a flotilla of ships
(Though only one trying to escape.)
I give her sly looks as I bring back my books
Oh Jenny, my lovely librarian!
But she’s a fine slug from the planet Ker-plugg!!
And I am a mere Vulcanarian.

Idly I daydream of marital bliss
Oh to squelch down the aisle with my Jenny!
Wondering which of her mouths I should kiss
(For naturally she has so many)
But seen through her eyes, I can only surmise
That I am a hirsute barbarian,
For she’s a fine slug from the planet Ker-plugg!!
And I am a mere Vulcanarian.

I’ve heard that one time, in the long distant past,
A couple were married out east.
But sadly the union didn’t quite last
Any longer than their wedding feast.
For we, as a race (as is well known in space)
Are renowned as being strict vegetarians,
While the diet of slugs from the planet Ker-plugg!!
Consists mainly of small Vulcanarians.

And so I just peep round the corner of fiction
And watch her put books on the shelves,
Unable to act on my base-less conviction
That we could be good for ourselves.
My love unrequited, my life has been blighted,
I curse Nature for being sectarian,
For she’s a fine slug from the planet Ker-plugg!!
And I am a mere Vulcanarian.