The Silver Moon

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O, looketh at the Moon
How mystical is she?
Up in the world above us
O, what word is to describe her beauty!

But does anyone seem to know?
That she is o, so lonely?
While we look up at her in awe,
Do you know?
She’s looking down at us with envy?

Well let me tell you a tale
Of the Moon and her love story
And, woe, a tragic tale
The wind whispered it to me, you see

She was once in love before
After all, she’s just a girl, you know
But Love has then betrayed her
He was more in love with gold

So then her love turned pale
And then her heart turned cold
So then she fled to the Heaven
Where she rest in the palace of Silver

And it was there she rest,
In isolation she grew old
No one could come near her
If they did, I do not know

Many has fell in love with her
And to her they submitted their soul
But none of them ever grew old
And their story all end up in woe

One poet tried to catch her
And drowned, for it was only her reflection
In the water
Another tried to buy her
Don’t you see what a fool he was though?

The Moral of my story
For there’s a lesson to be learned you see
That though the Moon is beautiful
But her heart is made of silver
And there is no Love there to see