Hey love,
I know you’re away, but I’ve been thinking about you every single day.
There’s something so pure, so real about you,
and I wouldn’t change a thing.

You’ll be home soon, in three weeks, love,
Don’t wash away your natural charm.
No need for scents, just be yourself,
In your essence, I find my calm.

No need for perfume or sweet-scented soap,
Your essence alone gives me hope.

You’re my heaven scent, oh, pure and true,
Every breath I take is filled with you.
No fragrant oils, no floral disguise,
You’re perfect just as you, my love, arise.

While you're away, I get by fine,
The bed still smells of you each night.
I don’t change the sheets, I breathe you in,
Your presence lingers on my skin.

No need for perfume or sweet-scented soap,
Your essence alone gives me hope.

Remember Napoleon and Josephine,
A love so strong, no need to clean.
I’m your hero, you’re my queen,
In your arms, I find my dream.

No need for perfume or sweet-scented soap,
Your essence alone gives me hope.

In a world of make-believe, you’re my reality,
No pretence, just the scent of you and me.
Every touch, every kiss, so divine,
In your natural state, you’re always mine.

You’ll be home soon, my love, don’t wash away,
The essence of you, in my heart, will stay.
You’re my heaven scent, my heart’s decree,
Forever and always, just you and me.

You call yourself a man,
 For all you used to swear,
An' leave me, as you can,
 My certain shame to bear?
 I 'ear!  You do not care—
You done the worst you know.
 I 'ate you, grinnin' there....
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!

  Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over—
  Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to your lover!
  What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you
  (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you?

It aren't no false alarm,
 The finish to your fun;
You—you 'ave brung the 'arm,
 An' I'm the ruined one;
 An' now you'll off an' run
With some new fool in tow.
 Your 'eart?  You 'aven't none....
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!

  When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im;
  All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind 'im.
  What's the good o' prayin' for The Wrath to strike 'im
  (Mary, pity women!), when the rest are like 'im?

What 'ope for me or—it?
 What's left for us to do?
I've walked with men a bit,
 But this—but this is you.
So 'elp me Christ, it's true!
 Where can I 'ide or go?
You coward through and through!...
 Ah, Gawd, I love you so!

  All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin'—
  Love lies dead, an' you cannot kiss 'im livin'.
  Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin'
  (Mary, pity women!), but you're late in learnin'!

You'd like to treat me fair?
 You can't, because we're pore?
We'd starve?  What do I care!
 We might, but this is shore!
 I want the name—no more—
The name, an' lines to show,
 An' not to be an 'ore....
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!

  What's the good o' pleadin', when the mother that bore you
  (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you?
  Sleep on 'is promises an' wake to your sorrow
  (Mary, pity women!), for we sail to-morrow!