Zulaika

Zulaika was fair to see, a young Persian maiden was she,

She lived in Baghdad, where all men are bad,

But none was so bad as she.

Her husband was very old, with riches of silver and gold,

He kept her locked in, away from all sin,

For Persians are very bold.

On her head she wore a turban that came from the fields of Iran,

Where no one can see, she kept a small key,

Which she threw out again and again.

The first time she threw the key out, it landed by the old water spout,

She sighed, and she cried, and the door opened wide,

And in walked her lover Mahaut.

The next time she threw out the key, it landed by the old Banyan tree,

She sighed, and she cried, and the door opened wide,

And in walked her lover Ali.

She threw out the key once again, expecting her lover Suleiman,

She sighed, and she cried, and the door opened wide,

And in walked a whole caravan.

The leader he bowed his head low, Zulaika's fair wishes to know,

"Ah, most of you stay," Zulaika did say,

"But the children and camels must go."

When each man was spent in his turn, Zulaika continued to burn,

"If none of you men can do it again,

Let the children and camels return."