Why did I fall in love with you,
There’s thousands more would have loved me too,
But love like yours is an evil brew,
While mine is true, and a man thing.

How could I see your lovely face
And think it harboured a state of grace
When all it hid was a can of mace
That drove me mad in decanting.

I should have sought your history
That kept you hidden in mystery,
For though I followed you wistfully
I never uncovered the bantling.

What is the hold you have on me
That keeps me wanting you wretchedly
Long after your love has done with me
And lost itself in your canting.

You may have coined a gypsy curse
That got to my heart, and hurt it first,
But you’re without love, and what is worse
Love’s without you in your ranting.

David Lewis Paget