Wer vor my words to console.
But the wold times be a-vanish'd,
An' my true love is my bride.
An' her kind heart have a-meäde her.
As an angel at my zide;
I've her best smiles that mid plaÿ,
I've her me'th when she is gaÿ,
When her tear-draps be a-rollèn,
I can now wipe em awaÿ.