When I Was Young

Mother, Mother,

cast not off my gutter,

hold me in your warm hands
'N
Breast feed me with dulcet lullaby;

I won't bother you,

I shall sleep.

Father, Father,

Put me not on the bread like a butter,

For my pleasantness may shatter upon their tongues withing their shuttered mouth when breakfast comes.

Garden, Garden,

Be beauteous and let all the flies flutter around thine odoriferous corsage to the eyes that sees.

Brother, Brother,

Teach me sweet words to be an adorable suitor,

'N

be the guitarist of white birds,

But,

spare me the tug of the strings of thine guitor,

though it holds mellifluous tones of blue tunes.