I have savoured many wines from a hundred different vines
On the hillsides where temptation’s fruits are crammed.
Where the all-enticing finger of beelzebub does linger
Bidding welcome . . . to the valley of the damned.

Oh! how sweet the mocker’s lure, ‘tis a goodly thing and pure
To my blinkered eyes of innocence she calls.
Come, your lustful passions slake, of my wanton fruits partake
Let your secrets stay cocooned within these walls.

Now, in anguish I am smothered, for a wine I have discovered
That is honey-sweet as nectar to my soul.
And the glass which holds it true has so rare a crystal hue
That it’s light could weld my heart, and make it whole.

If I’d only known of old what the prophets had foretold
That where’re a man may roam, his sins shall follow.
For there is no hiding place from the great Creator’s face
He can reach the smallest cleft . . . or darkest hollow.

But, alas, I must depart with this grieving, broken heart
For experience, she keeps so dear a school.
Yes, I tell you true, my friend, and remember to the end
For she loves no better scholar than a fool!

“Experience keeps a dear school – and a fool will learn in no other.”


Top          Truth          Home