David and Bathsheba

1 Samuel 16, and 2 Samuel 11 I wish that I had never shared my psalms, Regardless whose insomnia was raging. I wish that my ambition hadn’t brought me from the hills To shamelessly perform before the king. For if I’d had the patience to have waited; If I had kept these lyrics ‘neath a blanket in my tent, Then now I could reveal them to you slowly, One by one, And say that I’d composed each verse for you.