barry slorridge the crymes of the ancient marin'r, chapter 9 şarkı sözleri
The Crymes of the Ancient Marin'r
I useth mine own masting pole
To plow thy floweth'r hole
And thy petals didst rip
Sipeth the salt
Of mine own exquisite, dryeth malt
And cry, dearest strumpet
Cry
The Crymes of the Ancient Marin'r
I useth mine own masting pole
To plow thy floweth'r hole
And thy petals didst rip
Sipeth the salt
Of mine own exquisite, dryeth malt
And cry, dearest strumpet
Cry
