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Where Is The Woman Who Loves Me? ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1996

Oh! Where is the woman who loves me,
Where has she been, all the while?
She's a Crimean goat-herder's daughter,
Graced with a broken-toothed smile.
Or maybe a Middle East princess
Her complexion so perfect and clear,
Or a fish-monger's widow from Tooting!
Well, anyway, no-one round here.

So why are you being evasive;
Do you slip away, just as I'm due?
Are you tracking my movements by radar,
Is that why you're not coming through?
Is there anywhere close I can reach you,
If yes, won't you give me a call?
Oh! Where is the woman who loves me?
Quite possibly deepest Nepal!

There is a great deal I can offer
To the lady I long to adore;
My heart would I give in full measure,
My troth would I plight, all the more.
Might she be observing me closely
Behind some discreet fence or wall?
Oh! Where is the woman who loves me,
Or does no-one love me at all?

No great wealth as such can I boast of
In terms of bright rubies and rings;
No mansions abroad, nor a castle,
I cannot provide you such things.
Just love and commitment abounding,
Both qualities now rarely shown!
Oh! Where is the woman who loves me?
Please stand up, and make yourself known.



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