In a beautiful chat of a WEDding blues
He gives the trick that he may kiss her lips
But, for only lack of fatherly dues
He ceases and ceases and holds his peace
So right there and there, the still thing says:
Hurry Hurry, and give 7 years
No, stay stay and be aged with grey
But that night for fairytales and tiles
When young friends and lads fight hard with time
For in seven seasons and years must she be gone
So, shall they be gone and then elope ?
Darling Little Rose, Darling Trouble Buds -
He smells his smell and she he Loves -
(c) 23/8/2018