Enough Rope/The False Friends
The False Friends
THEY laid their hands upon my head,They stroked my cheek and brow;And time could heal a hurt, they said,And time could dim a vow.
And they were pitiful and mildWho whispered to me then,“The heart that breaks in April, child,Will mend in May again.”
Oh, many a mended heart they knew,So old they were, and wise.And little did they have to doTo come to me with lies!
Who flings me silly talk of MayShall meet a bitter soul;For June was nearly spent awayBefore my heart was whole.