Will I tell her everything,
Or will I tell her lies?
All my stories take false wing,
But still with me, she flies.
Should I tell her everything?
(I've heard back from my spies,
That she'll believe anything,
I say, when I advise.)
Will I tell her everything,
Or will I tell her lies?
To me, it's no idle fling:
A waltz between her thighs.
Should I tell her anything,
Or praise her to the skies?
A queen, and every man her king,
As every fool is wise!
Will I tell her everything,
Or will I tell her lies?
That all the baggage that I bring,
Is a burden worth the prize.
Will I tell her everything,
Or will I tell her lies?
Can she resist my mortal sting,
Or see tnrough my disguise?
Will I tell her everything,
Or will I tell her lies?
How vital is her quenching spring,
For a thirst that ever dries.
Will I tell her anything?
Will I tell her lies?
A puppet with her twisted strings,
That just breaks down and cries.
Should I tell her everything,
Should I tell her lies?
That it's her, and her mood swings;
Lay odds for love's demise.
Would I tell her anything,
I'd wrap it as surprise;
For all the verses that I sing,
Are sung in grim devise.
Will I tell her everything,
Or will I tell the lie?
That while my chaff needs winnowing,
Yet still she bakes my pie.
Should I tell her anything,
And risk her tart reply,
But stuff her dimpled pudding
Till, 'the end', they say, 'is nigh'.
Should I tell her anything,
Should I tell her lies?
Should I tell her how I cling,
To the trust sunk in her eyes?
Should I tell her anything,
Should I tell her lies?
That poet's know, not one blind thing,
'Bout how, love lives and dies!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'All my stories take false wing, But still with me, she flies' RAB