JANE DOWN THE LANE

When I was sixteen, I was terribly keen On a girl called Jane from down the lane. Hooked by her looks, if you know what I mean. But sadly I was far too shy And let my chances pass me by with Jane. When I tried, my tongue was tied. Oh why oh why? I still fantasize about those eyes of deepest blue. Try as I might, can’t quite forget the pain. All right, I know, I must let go now I’m eighty-two