As a sharp and mighty sword,
You cut through the air.
With no uttering of words
Pushed me to despair.

You led me into affairs,
While still babe in crib.
Like a clown in busy fairs,
Let go of your grip.

Toasted your new comers, I
Bottles popped in their sake,
The nectar to lovers - dry
Faded as if it was fake.

I have got to rid me of
Your erratic troubles;
But, Alas! the troubles though
Started on the double.