When he left his pretty boy Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee.
Streaming tears that never stint, Like pearl drops from a flint, Fell by course from his eyes, That one another's place supplies; Thus he grieved in every part, Tears of blood fell from his heart, When he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee.
The wanton smiled, father wept, Mother cried, baby leapt; More he crowed, more we cried, Nature could not sorrow hide: He must go, he must kiss Child and mother, baby bless, For he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee.
End of title
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