Buckshot Lefonque Weary With Toil
'Tis love which makes the elephant forget 'Tis love which makes the elephant forget Weary with toil, my soul seeks sweet repose Yet far from home, no comfort is there to find My mind at journey's end resumes command To cast unshadowed doubt (one might suppose) Our zealous pilgrimage fo sorts unkown Varied states of enduring discontent Lead my mind and soul to mortal clatter Lo thus, my heart ascends the royal throne And like the thief woh borrows not, but takes The lover who invokes a jealous rage With vulgar thoughts spoke venomous in tone Creates a trembling air, which ultimately quakes Forgive me not for harboring roguish ways Not for crude language from a brutal tongue 'tis love which makes the elephant forget So guilty am I, myself, love shan't acquit
