Oh, Maestro Byron!
Wouldn’t you delight to see,
The doorsteps of Hotel Byron,
In the center of Firenze.
There nine nymphs lie,
Half-asleep and dreaming,
Of the chance with you to lie,
In your sweet poetic bleeding.
Oh, Maestro Byron!
Wouldn’t you delight to see,
The doorsteps of Hotel Byron,
In the center of Firenze.
There nine nymphs lie,
Half-asleep and dreaming,
Of the chance with you to lie,
In your sweet poetic bleeding.