You Nightingale
You shall be perched up high
where you can espy
while I’m caressing her,
while I’m whispering to her,
My dove, my darling, my delight,
my heart, my happiness,
my sweet, my soul!
Do let me kiss your dear lips;
Do, let yourself be loved!
What enticing tune will you sing?
© 1970, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.
