ST. MARTIN AND THE VIRGIN
True love is not lost to savagery,
Nor is spirit a stranger to cash;
And tenderness can turn to violence,
The brightest flame will often turn to ash.
And St. Martin did one time love a lass,
Sweet as the sky were her brightest blue eyes;
And they danced to the sound of a violin,
They danced and they laughed ’til the dawn came in.
St Martin, he has come to be gone now,
He is buried deep under the grass;
It’s said where he lies it’s a holy place
His child dances at the feet of his lass.
(C)2019 by W.G. Milne