La fee verte indeed noted a fantasia of bohemian charm. For
if blood was without sugar how would we live on?
Of wormwood and of aniseed with no time for tea just a pin
prick to the tongue! Embrace the hedonism of Esmeralda
and her funeral song.
La musee de L'Absinthe, drink on! Indulge like the vampire,
but fend off envious ones. Like tea is to blood, it's a peasant
in the presence of such a vilified drug. No more than the
ordinary spirit and out of body we are.
More precious for banishment and more calming than
morphine. Of one single drop and one cured pain. Besides
your moonlit spoon, in your nymph manner, you're
enlightening the room with your gloom and glamour.
A tranquil culinary herb that is deathly to malaria. A friend
to a soldiers gore and poisonous by lore. Absinthe now and
absent never. With just a spoonful of sugar!
The fairy dubbed a knight by poets and more. One hears
your intoxicating concerto through an open door. The heart
wants what the heart wants, illustrious emerald blood Mon
amour.