Might I Speak Love
Might I speak love to the standing wench
And her offer the space on my bench?
Will I ever the strong urge quench
To praise her in The Finest French?
I should my passions share with a wench
I could never from her Adoration wrench
To always her fragrance sniff, not stench
And rain never let to her skin drench…
Yes, readying myself for a honey moon
I should want with her too soon,
Some day in Paris from morn to noon…
Plan I to wait but not till June
For thee to compose us a love tune.
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