Our love, my dear, isn’t ephemeral spring
It will not ebb away with time
Happiness galore, it will continue to bring
It isn’t a monsoon shower either at its prime
Pouring it all before being swept away
It will not ebb away with time
Our love is not a cold winter morning, pray
Not the raging passion akin to a typhoon
Pouring it all before it being swept away
It isn’t the early summer, cuckoo’s croon
Nay the flute of pied Piper leading us
Not the raging passion akin to a typhoon
God, it is by no means loud and pompous
Ebullient, blowing it’s own trumpet
Nay the flute of pied Piper leading us
It’s eternally balmy, ariose, dulcet
The poetry of an amorist king
Sonorous always, it’s a mellifluous duet
Happiness galore, it will continue to bring
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