Her love was a tin cup.
She held it out to her sleeves.
Farther even!
She shook and rattled it.
Look at it! look at it!
Her love was a tin cup.
A beggar’s kind of love.
Demanding attention.
Demanding affection.
Demanding charity.
Her love was a tin cup.
And I found out that
My pockets were empty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem