I went in the meadow some flowers to find there,
But the meadow would yield me no posies.
The weather, like love, did deceitful appear,
And I wandered for joy when my sorrow was near,
For the thorn that wounds deeply doth bide the whole year,
When the bush it is naked of roses.
I courted a girl that was handsome and gay,
I thought her as constant and true as the day,
Till she married for riches and said my love nay,
And so my poor heart got requited.
Let its waves be my mourners; naught living will weep;
And there let me lie and take a long sleep,
So adieu to my false love for ever.