one day, when i was out of work
my mom brought home a lustful turk
the turk, she said, was rich as solomon
which was why she had decided to call on him
the turk sat down and loudly sneezed
but assured me he was easy to please
all he wanted, all day long
was for me to sing his favorite song
his favorite song turned out to be
a strange and haunting melody
from a land that time forgot
that once was, but now was not
i sang it sweet and sang it low
as mom played on the piano
outside, if sense could be believed
a gentle breeze caressed the leaves
the turk wept at my serenade
all through the afternoon he stayed
i sent him happily on his way
and so got through another day
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