So I took her broken heart, calloused fingers wrapped tight, hoping it weren’t beyond repair.
But in a moment of vacillation, as I mended fatal wounds,
She took me by the hand, and pleaded I not move.
“Leave me be with this here torment,” she begged of me – a voice ever so tender.
“For it’s man’s eternal pain that I’ve placed upon my shoulders;
“And if I weep and sigh – if I feel the time draws nigh,
“It is because by Morning’s splendour, your sins will not be mine.”
And it was then I understood, on that lonely and breezy night,
That life without the Moon, would be serenity denied!