Poor hungry white moths
That eat my love’s clothing,
Who says very soon
Ye’ll leave her with nothing,
Here under the moon
I make bold to persuade ye,
Ye may eat all her clothes
So ye leave me milady,
Poor
hungry
white
moths. 作者: 叶如钢 时间: 2015-8-8 08:44 本帖最后由 叶如钢 于 2015-8-10 07:46 编辑