People have slandered our love serene,
Laughed at your penchant for me,
Said you were too old to love;
a mean libel on thy belle and thee.
Still, we're alone, You are my own,
Bone of contention to be!
Youth is the time for loving,
So poets always say,
The contrary we're proving
Look at us two today!
Love has no charm, no meaning,
Till man has reached his prime;
Surely, 'tis so,
You ought to know,
Any time's kissing time.
Timid as any gazelle am I,
Here would I be, yet afar,
Now there is only the moon to spy,
No one can guess where we are.
You are my deep Little black sheep,
Ali, my Ali, Baba!