The lovely ladies,
Who are sweet and tender,
All the flowers in the gardens,
Would never do,
To satiate their Beauty,

Their hems sway like irises,
In the wind of their love,
And all the flowers in the gardens,
Would never do,
As evenings fly away to moons,

Their love is a vineyard,
Fine, and damp with moonlight,

Its chill,
With its miracle thrills,
Serene and wild,

And they're sashaying,
Side by side,
As their hems,
in the vineyard wind,
want to go,
for a merry ride,

Its chill,
With its miracle thrills,
Serene and wild,

And their brows,
With their wings,
And love,
Glides,

With their hems,
and their wings,
Their love glides,
Into their souls,
And the moon,
And our love
Reynaldo Casison