And now I have another lad! No longer need you tell How all my nights are slow and sad For loving you too well. His ways are not your wicked ways, He`s not the like of you. He treads his path of reckoned days, A sober man, and true. They`ll never see him in the town, Another on his knee. He`d cut his laden orchards down, If that would pleasure me. He`d give his blood to paint my lips If I should wish them red. He prays to touch my finger-tips Or stroke my prideful head. He never weaves a glinting lie, Or brags the hearts he`ll keep. I have forgotten how to sigh- Remembered how to sleep. He`s none to kiss away my mind- A slower way is his. Oh, Lord! On reading this, I find A silly lot he is.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.
