If there was pleasure for pain
I could well be happy awhile,
And, O, my bosom would ne'er complain,
If my fortune gave me a single smile.
But here I am, and the curse is on,
And my life is a waste of woe,
And ere one river of tears is gone,
O, another torrent begins to flow.
Ah, the sun comes up in the east
And the sun goes down in the west.