Will make the cure nice.
The pain in the heart
Will quickly depart.
I’d fain say the same
Of every pain
That ruffles the temper
Or maddens the brain;
That makes the eye dim
Or cripples a limb;
That mars all your beauty,
Will make the cure nice.
The pain in the heart
Will quickly depart.
I’d fain say the same
Of every pain
That ruffles the temper
Or maddens the brain;
That makes the eye dim
Or cripples a limb;
That mars all your beauty,