King Charles Wilde Love
All men kill the thing they love By all let this, by all let this be heard
I never saw a man who looked with such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue which prisoners call the sky And at every drifting cloud that went with sails of silver by In Reading Gaol by Reading town there is a pit of shame And in it lies a wretched man eaten by teeth of flame The man had killed the thing he loved And so he had to die
All men kill the thing they love By all let this, by all let this be heard
Some kill their love when they are young And some when they are old Some strangle with the hands of Lust Some with the hands of Gold The kindest use a knife, because The dead so soon grow cold And there, till Christ call forth the dead, In silence let him lie No need to waste the foolish tear Nor heave the windy sigh The man had killed the thing he loved And so he had to die
All men kill the thing they love By all let this, by all let this be heard All men kill the thing they love By all let this, by all let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look Some with a flattering word The coward does it with a kiss The brave man with a sword The man had killed the thing he loved And so he had to die
All men kill the thing they love By all let this, by all let this be heard
