With roses and lilies entwin'd;
Before it grows every flower,
A bedroom I've built you behind.
"Our couch is a cluster of roses,
And while we lay lost in the sweet,
The leaves will so tickle our noses,
The thorns shall lie under our feet.
"The sheets, both the lower and upper,
Are made from a pair of bees' wings,
Whose honey I've stole for your supper,