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Song Of Songs

SONG OF SONGS

I will tell you about my love,
A story of her farm she hove;
My love had a farm on the hill,
And took out the ragged rocks, till
She made the vineyards looked fit
Fenced it and built a tower amidst
She had a winepress with rose drapes
Looked that it should bring out grapes
But it brought out wild briers and spines
You judge betwixt my love and her confines
What could have been done to her farm,
That she has not yet done well in her arm?
When she looked for grapes but got weed
Now will I tell you what my love need
She will take away the fence and the wood
And will break down the walls to be trod
She will lay it waste and not be pruned again
She will beg the clouds that they will not rain.
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