I'll leave this town with its life of sin,
And not come near it—until next year.
Oh country's summer I much prefer,
For perfume blows from a thousand flowers,
Delightful breezes the still leaves stir,
Nightingales sing in the twilight hours.
Phillis has captured my worn-out heart,
But only a moment 'tis hers I fear,
I'll love her and love her until we part,
And not come near her—until next year.