'T is but a score of hours when he didst swear
My sorrow and my joy to share.
Despite the fates, fore'er ;
But now he's gone to cash again his he;
Others his shame with me will wear,
Why should I die?
Last night his hips my very feet didst burn ;
His kisses dropt, my love to earn,
Whichever way he'd turn ;
But now he's gone another soul to rob.
Another heart to lure and spurn, '
Why should I sob?
He did not kiss me when he said good-bye ;
I let him go, not asking why,
Nor do I for him sigh ;
He's gone another virgin breast to tear.
He's gone on other lips to die,
Whv should I care?