Like doves we would be billing,
And clip and kisse so fast,
Yet she would be unwilling
That I should kisse the last:
They’re Judas kisses now,
Since that they prov’d untrue;
For, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
To maidens’ vowes and swearing
Henceforth no credit give;
You may give them the hearing,
But never them beleeve:
They are as false as faire,
Unconstant, fraile, untrue;
For mine, alasse! hath left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
’Twas I that paid for all things,
’Twas others dranke the wine;
I cannot now recall things,
Live but a foole to pine:
’Twas I that beat the bush,
The bird to others flew;
For she, alasse! hath left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
If ever that Dame Nature,
For this false lover’s sake,
Another pleasing creature
Like unto her would make,
Let her remember this,
To make the other true;
For this, alasse! hath left me,
Falero, lero, loo.
No riches, now, can raise me,
No want make me despaire,
No miserie amaze me,
Nor yet for want I care:
