banjo/ukulele

good god, dear friar, of fields, distant places, can't you see that there's something of substance here? oh my, dearest writer, can't you write one word less, for my tears fall too slowly to count? jump higher, my lover, the clouds will not shame you, not like the life you once knew. step faster, o'er plaster, of sidewalks yet dry, for a mother still craddles a child! cry out- from the rooftops, from fields, distant places! can't you see? there's nothing worth love here!