My Love
William Olvis;Barbara Cook;Irra Petina
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Poets have said
Love is undying, my love
Don't be misled
They were all lying, my love
Love's on the wing
But now while he hovers
Let us be lovers
One soon recovers, my love
Soon the fever's fled
For love's a transient blessing
Just a week in bed
And we'll be convalescing
Why talk of morals
When springtime is flying?
Why end in quarrels
Reproaches and sighing
Crying
For love
My love?
I cannot entertain
Your shocking proposition
How could I regain
My virginal position?
She's so pure
That before you may bed her
You must assure us
That first you will wed her
Wed her
Wed!
Then, since you're so pure
I shall betroth you, my love
Though I feel sure
I'll come to loathe you, my love
Still, for the thrill
I'm perfectly willing
For if we must wed
Before we may bed
Then let us be wed
My love!