And the larks were served up for an Alderman's lunch,
Dead and cold, love;
And the lustre has faded from tresses and cheek,
And the eyes do not sparkle, the eyes that I seek,
And the temper is strong and the logic is weak
Of my old love.
Snuffiamente.
No larks and roses
In a winter gloaming;
Ruby-red love's nose is;