In my years of young desire,
From sweet love's devouring fire
Many a pain I had;
Nowadays the fuel's dearer,
And the fire does not burn clearer,
Ma foi, it's not so bad!

Ponder this, my pretty sweeting,
Let thy silly tears go fleeting,
And love's silly pains and harms;
And if only life is left thee,
Why, forget the love that's reft thee,
Ma foi! in my arms.