Wilde Love

All men kill the thing they love

By all let this, by all let this be heard [x2]

I never saw a man who looked with such a wistful eye

Upon that little tent of blue which prisoners call the sky

And at every drifting cloud that went with sails of silver by

In Reading Gaol by Reading town there is a pit of shame

And in it lies a wretched man eaten by teeth of flame

The man had killed the thing he loved

And so he had to die

All men kill the thing they love

By all let this, by all let this be heard

Some kill their love when they are young

And some when they are old

Some strangle with the hands of Lust

Some with the hands of Gold

The kindest use a knife, because

The dead so soon grow cold

And there, till Christ call forth the dead,

In silence let him lie

No need to waste the foolish tear

Nor heave the windy sigh

The man had killed the thing he loved

And so he had to die

All men kill the thing they love

By all let this, by all let this be heard

All men kill the thing they love

By all let this, by all let this be heard

Some do it with a bitter look

Some with a flattering word

The coward does it with a kiss

The brave man with a sword

The man had killed the thing he loved

And so he had to die

All men kill the thing they love

By all let this, by all let this be heard