Come all ye fair and tender ladies
take warning how, you court young men.
They're like a star, on a summer morning
they first appear, and then they're gone.
They'll tell to you, some loving story
And they make you think, that they love you well.
Then away they'll go, and court some other
and leave you there, in grief to dwell.
I wish I was, a little sparrow
and had wings to fly so high
I'd fly away, to my false true lover
and when she'd ask, I would deny.
Oh love is handsome, love is charming
love is pretty, while its new.
But love grows old, as love grows older
and fades away, like morning dew.