I’ll tell you an old tale I learned in a rhyme, There are four women in every man’s heart.
Though the ages of love they pass one at a time, Hold you together, tear you apart.
As you carelessly gather the wildflowers of youth, A maid in the meadow will run by your side.
She will tell you of tenderness, courage, and truth, Innocence blooms with the flowers that die.
It’s only an old tale I learned in a rhyme, There are four women in every man’s heart.
Though the ages of love they pass one at a time, To hold you together, tear you apart.
Cold cloak of loneliness blankets your soul, The demon lover will burn at your breast.
Her passion’s the furnace; your body’s the coals, Love is the steel to be tempered and pressed.
It’s only an old tale I learned in a rhyme, There are four women in every man’s heart.
Though the ages of love they pass one at a time, To hold you together, tear you apart.
You’re lost and you’re tossed on the ocean of life,
A stout-hearted woman will give you her hand. She is more than a lover; she’s more than a wife; A beckoning beacon to guide you to land.
It’s only an old tale I learned in a rhyme There are four women in every man’s heart. Though the ages of love they pass one at a time, To hold you together, tear you apart.
Rake through the embers of love you will find, The tall quiet woman who shines through your eyes. Into the shadows that burden your mind, Peace and contentment, the wanderer’s prize.
It’s only an old tale I learned in a rhyme, There are four women in every man’s heart. Where will the place be and when is the time, To bring you together, keep you apart?