A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
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JEALOUS AS CAN BE
I thought that I was grown,
That I could stand to be alone;
To any pleasure that you’ve known
I could agree.
Oh, when I see you holding tight
Another lover in the night,
I’d like to feel it’s quite
All right with me.
But it’s not all right with me.
I’m as jealous as can be.
I pretend not to see
And wonder why.
Oh, it’s not for me to know
What it is that moves me so,
But if you ever go,
I’m gonna cry.
You tell me that you love me
But I can’t tell if it’s true.
You treat me like you want me
To wait in line for you.
Oh, are you just a flirt?
Am I chasing just a skirt?
I try to smile on bravely
But it hurts.
My future’s unsure,
And I’m feeling insecure.
Your presence is sure
To still haunt me.
Oh, I’d come back once more
If you would love me like before,
And if I were sure
You still want me.
Madrid, New York, 1976
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