Snow White Sheets
By Tom D Blakely
Stop now my son, from doing harm
The woman uses all her charm,
To bring you to her pleasure bed
But it will bring you pain instead.
The perfume and the snow white sheets
Will tempt all pilgrims that she meets.
Her lips speak love and liberty
But draw you to captivity.
For though you enter perfumed sheets
The stench of hell tomorrow greets.