Over and onward, and onward and over,
He reels and he spins like a jolly old rover.
Roll—Roll—Roll—Roll—
Backward he flies to our one dear goal,
Where the whirling shall cease, and the rider shall rest,
And soft, trembling lips to my own shall be pressed.
Slow—Slow—Slow,
Slowly—more slowly—we go—
What, darling, so far on the road to-night,
To welcome us both with your eyes’ sweet light!