If you've got leavin' on your mind
Tell me now, get it over
Hurt me now, get it over
If you've got leavin' on your mind
If there's a new love in your heart
Well, tell me now, get it over
Hurt me now, get it over
If there's a new love in your heart
Don't leave me here
In a world filled with dreams that might have been
Hurt me now, get it over
I may learn to love again
If there's a new love in your heart
Well, tell me now, get it over
Hurt me now, get it over
If there's a new love in your heart
Hurt me now, get it over
If there's a new love in your heart
For this one I went with glyconics. The straight-up glyconic is xx-uu-u-, but in poets from Sappho to Euripides it can vary with xx-x-uu-, the so-called Cho Dim, named after the Manchu warrior who roamed the desolate Plains of Greek Metrics, forcing subject nations to mouth terms like willamowitzian. Ok, really it's just an anaclastic glyconic, but it often gets called the "choriambic dimeter."
I removed some of the repeats. The biggest grammatical oddity is probably the verb ἀπολειψÎμεν, an aeolic — and sometimes Homeric — future infinitive of ἀπολείπω. Using that word for "leave" for a man is a solecism in strict Greek (Lucian griped about it), but in the context of 50s American country music, women aren't property cast aside so easily, so the usual word for a man leaving a woman, á¼ÎºÏ€Îμπω, makes no sense.
εἰ μÎλλεις ἀπολειψÎμεν,
á¼Î¼Î¿á½¶ μὲν λÎγε νῦν τελῶν,
πήμηνον δΠμε νῦν τελῶν
εἰ μÎλλεις ἀπολειψÎμεν.
εἰ δ’ á¼Î½ θυμῷ καινὸς á¼”Ïως,
á¼Î¼Î¿á½¶ μὲν λÎγε νῦν τελῶν,
πήμηνον δΠμε νῦν τελῶν
εἰ δ’ á¼Î½ θυμῷ καινὸς á¼”Ïως.
στᾶσαν á¼Î½Î¸Î¬Î´Îµ μὴ λίπῃς
á¼Î»Ï€Î¯Î¶Î¿Ï…σάν με ματήν,
πήμηνον δΠμε νῦν τελῶν,
ἀλλ’ αὖθίς Ï€Î¿Ï Î¼Î¿Î¹ φιλία.
