The song of songs,
Which is Solomon's,
I sing to her.
She has
Eyes of doves
Washed with milk,
Teeth: flock of sheep.
We will break the garden wall
And lie down in the grass
While we are still young.
The song of songs,
Which is Solomon's,
I sing to her.
She is
High as the moon,
Clear as the sun
And terrible as an army,
Approaching banners,
The sound of breaking bones.
Writer(s): John W Vanderslice
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