Rogue


You are a rogue, sweet Irishman,
With red mustache now turned to silver gray;
The boyish sparkle in your eyes
Belies the manly words you find to say.
You are a rogue, sweet Irishman,
This fact I know for certain in my soul;
Your silver tongue drips honey sweet,
My heart lies panting at your feet;
But sure I know that I will pay a toll
For loving you; I'll pay and pay,
For listening to the words you say,
And keeping my sane mind at bay,
In anticipation of a day
When rogues and maidens come to play
Beneath the Blarney Stone of Love.
And this sweet promise from above
Is enough to stay my ear
From the blarney that I hear.
"Once burned, twice shy", the saying goes,
And burned I've been already;
But though I know your words deceive,
On this my heart is steady;
I loved you once, I'll love you twice,
And risk the fiery penance;
For Love will always be in vogue.
Sweet Irishman, you are a rogue.

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