My Love

Poets have said

Love is undying, my love

Don't be misled

They were all lying, my love

Love's on the wing

But now while he hovers

Let us be lovers

One soon recovers, my love

Soon the fever's fled

For love's a transient blessing

Just a week in bed

And we'll be convalescing

Why talk of morals

When springtime is flying?

Why end in quarrels

Reproaches and sighing

Crying for love?

My love?

I cannot entertain

Your shocking proposition

How could I regain

My virginal condition?

She is so pure that

Before you may bed her

You must assure us

That first you will wed her

Wed her!

Well then

Since you're so pure

I shall betroth you, my love

Though I feel sure

I'll come to loathe you, my love

Still for the thrill

I'm perfectly willing

For if we must wed

Before we may bed

Then let us be wed

My love!