Once, so Dear Julia in days of fevered blood,
Though searing Love was still innocent of Bud,
We danced around with our feelings laid bare,
How more fond Girl could my affections declare?
But no it seems you were not so true,
So Colour all else a somber blue.
To ‘Modigliani’ limbed Jen, and her Clara Bow Hair,
And cultured nights in Leicester Square,
Her Cynical Smile and knowing word,
Her thoughts on ‘Yeats’, being terribly absurd.
But no it seems you were not so true,
So Colour all else a somber blue.
Jubilant Beth, the foe of all strife,
A ‘Bonn Vivant’, the consumption of all life,
For Motel Nights did soon begin,
In endless Wine and ceaseless Sin.
But no it seems you were not so true,
So Colour all else a somber blue.
Could it be Leah from all of those,
With her ‘Cut Glass’ Wit, and finer Clothes,
Bring home to me where death is blind,
The pleasure of ‘Being’ and the joy of mind.
But no it seems you were not so true,
So Colour all else a somber blue.