Kelida, here's a song you might enjoy. It comes from Brigadoon (the musical, not the place).

I like the way the heroine evolves from being an taken-advantage-of innocent to becoming a sly commentator on the men she encounters.

At sixteen years I was blue and sad
My father said I should find a lad
So I went out to become a wife
And found the real love of my life

His name it was Chris and the last was McGill
I met him one night picking flowers on the hill
He had lots of charm and a certain kind of touch
And a certain kind of eagerness that pleased me very much
So there neath the moon where romance often springs
I gave him my heart and a few other things
I don't know how long that I stayed there on the hill
But the moon had disappeared and so had Christopher McGill

So I went home and I thought I'd die
My father said, "Make another try,"
So I set out to become a wife
And found the real love of my life.

He came from the lowlands, the lowlands said he
I saw him and knew he was perfect for me
Just one thing that puzzled me and it always will
Was he told me he had heard about me from his friend McGill
We quick fell in love and went down by the creek
And after he said he'd be back in a week
And I thought he would, for now how was I to know That of all the lowland laddies there was never one as low?

I told my father the awful truth
He said, "What difference? You've got your youth"
So I set out to become a wife
And found the real love of my life.

He was a poet, a rhymer was he
He read me some verse he had written for me
He said they would move me, these poems from his pen
And how right he was because they moved me right into the glen
We stayed till the dawn came and lighted the sky
Then I shook his hand and I bid him goodbye
I never went back, for what I had heard was true
That a poet only writes about the things he cannot do

My pa said, "Careful of men who think
You'll be more certain with men who drink"
So I set out to become a wife
And found the real love of my life.

Oh, he was a soldier, a fine highland son
He told me about all the battles he'd won
He wasted his time telling me about his might
Cause one look at him decided me to not put up a fight
We skirmished for hours that night in the glen
The sword proved mightier than the pen
But then as we slept I snored to my dismay
And he thought it was a bugle and got up and marched away

My pa said, "Daughter, there must be one
A man who's true or too old to run"
So I'm still out to become a wife
And find the real love of my life.

Marion