Every Red Thing

He searches every red thing because,
He wants to enter to her lover's home without knocking;
For the quiver rattles around him!

This like a battle cry and,
His love is now seen in the land of war! !
But my hands are now on my mouth.

Blot, slot, plot, clot;
And like the shortened hands with heavy ears!
But none of the wicked will understand this muse,
For wrapped in glory and beauty is my love to my lover.