Poor, Poor Casanova
Once in a time,
in a place known as Umbria.
Spied dist I, oh grand lake!
Twas said,” oh So many roman soldiers
were slain here in some long forgotten war.”
Unto the waters sleep their bones.
Now on pretty pretty hill
dwells not only serpents,
but wantonness eternal beauty.
She is; all that is woman.
Guarding the castle dwells too,
Mark Antony a cruel large red cat,
commanding four Roman soldiers’ parrots.
There’s graves scattered here about
of those uppity puppity knights,
who desired a little too much amore,
Oh how the great dark gates protect her.
On strange quiet nights listen to the wind
and hear silent, silent whispers
of fabulous Venus.
Amore, amore, amore mio.
Sssshhhh , sssshhhh!
Fools its Pompio and the rusty crusty parrots.
But I do sigh, for didst I
her very scent didst taste.
Grievous cursed am I now to follow Cleopatra everywhere.
Thou charming thing
magically turning me unto a Billy goat.
So mournfully falling about a place, Perugia.
For whilst I prance, dance, entrance ye,
Eve dwells on high.
With cruel Mark Antony aside mine heart.
Beware Casanova those mischievous servants,
in beautiful Gethsemane.
Who upon high ancient olive tree, watch ye.
Jealousy is mine only friend
could be mine pathetic end.
Spare me, mourn me,
poor, poor Casanova.
Copyright © carrington marshall