“Sin always wounds the sinner.”
There is a whisper that they speak
Of one so lovely, of beauty deep
She who stands with skin so fair
Eyes aglow and silken hair
And so they whisper with much lust
Of soft caress and passion’s touch—
But men are men as men can be
And turn blind eye to what they see
Behind this mask of golden face
There hides a soul of spite and hate
Of venom pure, deceit so foul
Men! Beware of lover’s scowl
There is no goodness to be found
There is no virtue that abounds
The beauty inside is but a wish
The dream of men, a tasty dish—
Oh, men, oh men! Why know they not?
She lies in wait, she spins her plot
And with a savage cold hard hand
She strikes them down, she strikes down men
And sends them to her maker’s feast
Where he dines on tasty treats.
COPYRIGHT 2012 © ELIZABETH MICHAUD JOHN. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.