A poem of Love in honour of the working Mojo

As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved

among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.

He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was

love.

Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of

love.

His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace

me.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by

the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the

mountains, skipping upon the hills.

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth

behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair

one, and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of

birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with

the tender grape give a good smell.

Song of Solomon from the Bible, don't ya know...