Sirens

Cool is the wind that prevails through the land
A Hundred dusky maidens, won’t you bury me in sand?
Sweet are the sweets that they’ll pluck from your hair
If you sprinkle them with diamonds that you fashioned from the air.
Who’s fooling who’, a man we’ll make of you don’t play with sirens.

Rose coloured shades mix the pence with the pound,
Till 7000 hornets leave their sting without a sound,
Silk lines the purse that she hangs from your neck,
Poseidon won’t ya drown me I’m an underwater wreck.
Who’s loving you, a man we’ll make of you don’t play with sirens.