When I left home for happiness,
my mother thought me mad.
Preferred me being sad.
I had no right to happiness;
love never made her glad.
When I said marriage gave me hell,
my mother said, be true!
Then started to pooh-pooh
my true love’s love – it was a spell!
(My wife, she’d tell, I knew.)
When my first love returned to me,
my mother stirred a storm.
She feared that female form,
with soul, I’d shared eternally,
my frozen heart she’d warm!
When I left home, my wife freaked out.
My mother tried her best,
but, in the end, confessed:
“About this girl, there is no doubt,
he always was obsessed.”