A sad story was told how love went blind.
And by pearly gates Cupid went to work.
To plant white Lilies in a damsel's mind.
This task for a bloke who has so much luck.
Be not fooled tho', for Cupid ain't that kind.
Roses were bought from the stores of New York.
He ordered for the finest man could find.
These cost much fortune, little did of luck.
Love is not stuffed in a maiden's behind.
Neither in fireside songs as we eat pork
Or sip whiskey by night, it takes some grind.
It does not appear as by her you lurk.
Love isn't dead. Nay, breathes on life support.
Thus it costs some coins, this need I report?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem