He, grown weary of his victim,
Says, “’Tis better we should part!”
In his soul there is no pity
For her crushed and breaking heart.—Chorus.
In the streets of a great city,
One cold, bitter winter’s night,
On a door-step lies a woman,
’Round her fall the snowflakes white;
By her side a man is kneeling,
“Mary!” is his bitter cry—