My men are full
of vigour,
have hairy chests,
thick heavy arms
Their smiles are wide,
angular acts
Their happy eyes
invite me in
Those hairy chests
and heavy arms
constitute a refuge
until my mindstorm
passes by
or till the catcher
catches rye.
My men are full
of vigour,
have hairy chests,
thick heavy arms
How hard it is,
yes, so hard,
to chuck not all
my instilled rigour.
