My nose appears inclined to freeze;
And, when I seek to raise my voice,
I only raise a sneeze, sneeze, sneeze.
Too ral la, too ral la, &c.
O Juliet Capulet! my love,
To keep me waiting ’tis a sin:
This May-day weather will, I fear,
Put out the flame of love within.
My heart with love is burning high,
My bones with cold are like to freeze: