From the broad of my back to the points of my toes,
When a pellet of paper hit my nose,
Then I’d fling them bunches of garden flowers,
And hyacinths plucked from the castle bowers;
And I’d challenge them all to come down to me,
And I’d kiss them all till they kisséd me,
Laughingly, laughingly.
Oh, would not that be a merry life,
Apart from care and apart from strife,