I thought it was love
That from above
That was too big to be held in a clove
That couldn't be hidden in a glove
It was that love you rejected
While you make me dejected
How I wish I could be selected
To be your only elected
Oh what a blow!
And now I cannot with people flow
Because your blow makes me slow
But as for you, you can still glow
What you did was bad
It makes me sad
Oh me! Now a poor lad!
I pray I don't run mad
You said I should just be a friend
You don't even care what happens to me in the end
Can't you just bend?
Or must your noes follow in a trend?
Girl it was hard!
Why did you not make it like lard?
Abaa, what about tallow?
Must you subject me to the harrow?
My wounded heart I keep caressing
The wound you caused I keep dressing
Against your noes I keep pressing
As I thank God you are my Blessing
Darling, it is you I want
But the ones haunt
I want our love to flaunt
Don't you get it? It is you I love!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem