Anon a dish of lonesome woe to-morrow.
I love not much this wisdom thou dost teach,
These high come-ups and downs they like me not.
I am too much a fool to learn thy lesson. (Sings.)
And who’d be wise
And full of sighs,
And care and evil borrow;
When to be a fool
Is to go to school
To Happy-go-luck-to-morrow?
Who’d tread the road,
And feel the goad,
And bear the sweatsome burden:
When loves are light,
And paths are bright
Of folly’s pleasant guerdon?
Sigh while we may,
We cannot stay
The sun, nor hold its shining.
So joy the nonce,
We live but once,
And die for all our pining.
Who’d be a king
And wear a ring
And age his youth with sorrow;
When to be a fool
Is to go to school
To Happy-go-luck-to-morrow?
Vivien. Aye Dagonet, thou art indeed a happy fool.
Wilt thou shew me how to make love?