That my head were a spring of water
And my eyes a fountain of tears
To weep all sorrow
Under the window of your closing joy

I will not dally
I will make haste to thee

Nor will I stumble at the bark of the dog
The sharpened of the boar

What a mouth could say
Forget me not, my lovely
To sound all laughing
And trumpet to our new year

I will not dally
I will make haste to thee

Nor will I stumble at the bark of the dog
The sharpened tusk of the boar

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