I have not had much luck lately
the lady has been unkind
she says I am far to old
for what I have got in mind

Still I bring her wildflowers from my garden
cake from the bakers down the street
I do my best to win her over
Though she beats a quick retreat

So I turn to hide my longing
I have hid it for so long
that the mask is habit forming
the longing far to strong