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"Well met, well met" said an old true love, "well met, well met" said he, |
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"I have just returned from the salt salt sea, and all for the love of thee." |
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From pole to pole I've spread my soul o'er sea to august sea, |
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In body, bankroll and bedded sin, I've liked to spread it thin. |
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I saw you in the German eye, I caught you in the head, |
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In hearts beset by Winter's debt, I heard you wonder why - |
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O why, o why do the tender sigh at first with the breath of me, |
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Then at my leave remember grief and clouds to fill the sky? |
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I'll tell you why your majesty, I'll join you in your balcony, |
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Your lofty arboreal grace, and in my hand your crumbling face - |
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It's for they know that when you go the anger does awake |
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And the babies that you bred will grow to armies in your wake! |
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That's why the tender in their few do seek to touch the heart of you, |
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And round the planet do oft do sing, to make a final honest ring... |
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For love or lack thereof, turn back - All for the love of thee! |
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For love or lack thereof, turn back - All for the love... |
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"Well met, well met," the English said, and sailing set for free land, |
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Albeit chained and with a pent up greed, they killed a family, |
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And all before your pretty face, not once or twice or three. |
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Have men been stirred, and thick, and furred as beasts and all for thee, |
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And all for the love of thee |
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And all for the love of thee |
