Over, Lord

I bade my love compose an ode

To prove her heart was true

Reciting To Him All Is Owed

She blushed the whole way through

I bade my love prepare a feast

Befitting of her lord

She cooked for me the finest beast

Her dowry would afford

I bade my love take out a boat

And clear the moat of trolls

She caught each one and cut its throat

Then stuck their heads on poles

I bade my love tend to my aches

With liniments and oils

She rid my skin of every flake

And lanced a string of boils

Then comes a time when passions end

When leaves droop with the frost

I bade my love invite her friend

That’s when she said get lost.