Lira, la, la! "Brother, take all the loaf," I said, I shall but go with lighter cheer -- Lira, la, la! And O within my flowering heart (Sing, sweet nightingale!) is my Dear.
A thief I met on the lonely way -- Lira, la, la! He took my gold; I cried to him, "Stay! And take my pocket and make an end." Lira, la, la! And O within my flowering heart (Sing, soft nightingale!) is my Friend.
Now on the plain I have met with death -- Lira, la, la! My bread is gone, my gold, my breath.
But O this heart is not afraid -- Lira, la, la! For O within this lonely heart (Sing, sad nightingale!) is my Maid.
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