They told you time would heal, and you’d forget.
That there’d be no remorse and no regret.
And hearts they'd torn apart would one day mend.
Yes, you believed their lies and so did send

your father; he knocked boldly on my door
for property, of yours, he had come for.
Cruel courier, content with callous crime,
who smiled to see true love run out of time.

They'd told you that I'd not amount to much;
I lacked a grafter's grit and Midas Touch.
Besides, they'd weighed me up and deemed me weird.
(this future son-in-law was to be feared!)

Their daughter, you were told, was far too good
to love an orphan boy whose name was mud.
He lacked that precious gem: a steady job,
preventing him from merging with the mob.

But worst of all he was a Jesus Freak,
uncouth enough about that name to speak!
And God, they'd praise, but always did pretend,
to him was dearer than a dearest friend.

And so, to love we'd shared, they did their worst;
they crucified it, cast it out as cursed.
But even in a dungeon, dank and drear,
first love still sparkles, starlit and sincere!