To lie beneath that tree with thee
a witches curse, we could not flee.
the river gently flowing by,
could not speak, and warn us why
we should run and hide the wrath
of green eyed monster on our path.
too late now, the deed is done
the wound is deep, but love has won.
for cupids arrow in the air,
cuts through anger, lies and pride.
none can hide him, don't despair,
he alone may choose his bride.