But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.
"'Tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk;
The finest flower that ere was seen
Is withered to a stalk.
"The stalk is withered,dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,