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The old wolf sniffs the summer breeze |
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And dreams about his youth |
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For the sight of skirts above the knees |
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Turns his hardboiled brain to tears |
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And the scent of honey in the tree |
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Whets an old sweet tooth |
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The pretty girls go strolling by |
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I smile at them and heave a sigh |
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And think of all the things |
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I've missed |
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And all the pretty girls |
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I've never kissed |
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They smile from field of daffodils |
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They wave from high and windy hills |
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In secret places by the sea |
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The girls |
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I've never kissed still wait for me |
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All the girls whose names |
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I can't recall |
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Their faces haunt me still |
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All the pretty girls |
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I've never kissed |
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And never will |
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The girls of spring, the girls of fall |
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The girls of summer most of all |
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If only time did not exist |
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If only I could catch that boat |
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I always missed |
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I'd go back and kiss |
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All the pretty girls |
|
I've never kissed |
