The masque on the face

The masque on the face and there’s a persona of

you doing butterfly trick

as if flying over the flowers

and forget the scent emanating

but I am doing fine as your valet

Now what remains behind is the chalet

of dreams nonetheless, she weeps

and sick of answering her tantrums

I do complain about what’s behind the masque on the face

a younger woman who needs no feast

There was a triumph of the soul

and you need no ghoul

as your stooge who dances with you

But as your valet, I see you in Opera

with a masque on the face

let’s give love a chase

and break into a flamenco

there’s a twist to the tale

and after a swig of ale

you end up in a quarter but pale

Let’s word the world as longing

of the feverish mood to put behind the curtains

drawn to divulge you to the audience

and I do part my way.

 

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Maiden Song

The beautiful sound errupted from the vale

a dancing maid took to the eyes with storm

bulging her eyes she crossed with the starry lover

who kept on singing the song of forsaken lore

Now she called upon the distant maid

her partner in the silly shove of potato crop

they were potato eaters now groping for more

love and love upon castles built in the air

Longing for her dreams, she danced lightly on her toes

as silently he played the dulcimer only to abandon

the song and the place in favour of mountains maroon

a galore!