Love,
Love,
Loved the Moyos
Lived in the Moyos
She sang of scratches
She was deaf to matches
She heard of a better light
But held on to her knight
The drumbeat of his life
Was none other his wife
A poetess by avocation,
A rhythmist by profession
Like a heart needing a beat
She called him her sweetheart
Perfected perfectly by imperfections
And together they discussed their limitations
