('Tis little here nor there to you
Or me what now I say,
But just another rhyme or two
To pass the time of day.
You like my rhymes, you say you do,
They are so very gay.)

I knew a fool who followed one
Bright lady of the land.
The lady smiled the fool upon,
So regally and bland,
And had him put his coxcomb on
And sit and hold her hand.

Then would she smile his rhymes to hear,
And pet him and aver
Her fool was twenty times as dear
As other ladies' were.
(And right was she, for all the year
He rhymed to only her.)

For all the year he'd rhyme and dream
(O that's a fool his part),
" My lady's fair as fair may seem
And loves me without art, " —
Until the heart leapt up in him.
(A fool may have a heart!)

The lady marked his heart to leap
And thought, " Of every jest
That through my poor fool's brain can creep
This is indeed the best. "
(For let a fool but love and weep
The whole fool stands confessed.)

The fool he told (ah, foolishly),
His love he told so true;
He scarce did see her shallow glee
At what a fool could do;
Till jested she, " Nay, fool, ah me,
I am not worthy you. "

The fool he did not understand
(His wits had little lore),
The fool he could not understand
(But O, his heart was sore).
He left the lady of the land
And jested nevermore.

The lady of the land did grieve
For hours twenty-four;
Another fool she did receive
Long ere the next was o'er:
For every lady, I believe,
Must have one fool — or more.

('Tis little here nor there to you
Or me what now I say,
'Twas but another rhyme or two
To pass the time of day.
You like my rhymes, you say you do,
They are so very gay.)