Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.
One of the three, we make Love what we choose,
But Jimmy did not know, he only thought
That Anna was too beautiful to lose,
That she was all the world and he was naught,
That it was sweet, though bitter, to be caught.
'Anna, I love you.' Underneath the moon,
'I shall go mad unless I see you soon.'
The fair's lights threw aloft a misty glow.
The organ whangs, the giddy horses reel,