Jen tells a strange story

Written by: Gerald Nforche

Number 4 of 

There goes a tear Jen
There goes a tear.
 Brush it off not
But let my tongue be at its service.

Sweet Jen, oh Jen, tell me why weepeth thee?
Be it a tear of joy or the lofties of depression.
My humble paradise has always for thee searched 
But aloof has thy hesitation caused it be.

‘’Oh Gerald,’’ she wept,”how will I tell thee, how will I,
When I am reduced to the rags of betrothal by savage laws?
Despair not, despair not for there thy eyes water.
Meek and innocent was I when the bangle shackled me by silver.

In thy arms thee hold a queen,
In thy tender heart a true queen therein blooms,
But I beseech thee to listen-
For by evil customs I be shackled to a village Chief.”

Truth pierced through my young heart like daggers
While my head rang like with thousand old drums.
Whereforth I questioned man's iniquity
As a sad tear crawled down my cold cheek.

There I crumbled with despair,
Here I found no repair
As she wept in my arms
Till it drenched in her queenly tears.