(To the tune: Mountains of Mourne.) Oh Mary, you have sucha beautiful face, And Your figure is charming, you walk with such grace, Your hair, burnished copper, your eyes shining bright, The valleys and hills of your contours delight. Your form in entrancing, and were in unclad, 'Twould drive any man on this planet quite mad, So why's it the case that you'd much rather be Where the mountains of Lesbos fall down to the sea.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003