The Grand Tour: Fife and Beyond

Ramblings of an inveterate cyclist

Love

John, O’ John, do you still love me,

As when our love was new?

Or has it grown old, and cold,

Has it vanished like the morning dew?

How could I fail to love thee,

As when our love was new?

Dear Heart, you are my life’s pulse,

My sun,

That dispels the morning dew.

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