And when I looked to him to keep his promise,
He told me of his wife. There, that’s my story.
Go wash your hand!
Gret.Poor bruised and broken heart—
Be comforted. Why, I have prayed and prayed
For thy return—and see, my prayer is heard!
Poor wanderer! Our hearts were sore for thee,
Ay, very sore—and I remember well
How Barbara wept when the sad tidings came,
And vowed she’d rather lose her best ten years