To sorrow
I bade good-morrow
And thought to leave her far away behind
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly;
She is so constant to me, and so kind.
I would deceive her,
And so leave her,
But ah! she is so constant and so kind.
I bade good morrow,. And thought to leave her far away behind;. But cheerly, cheerly,. She loves me dearly;, 5. She is so constant to me, and so kind: I would deceive her,. And so leave But now of all the world I love thee best. There is not
