When first I caught a glimpse of her,
I spied not her snare;
but left alone without my heart,
I knew she'd left me bare.

I knew not her nature when
we met along the shore;
but had no doubt, for soon I found
she'd had my kind before.

It wasn't easy, quite the task,
but little choice I had;
I knew not where she kept the hearts;
no logic, she's quite mad.

How else can one explain it?
None other doth makes sense.
To leave a man so broken;
such pain she doth dispense.

This is not myth or fable
but fact of mortal men;
I suppose if I were able,
I'd do it all again.