George Wither (1588–1667)

I LOVED a lass, a fair one,

As fair as e’er was seen;

She was indeed a rare one,

Another Sheba Queen:

But, fool as then I was,

I thought she loved me too:

But now, alas! she’s left me,

Falero, lero, loo!

Her hair like gold did glister,

Each eye was like a star,

She did surpass her sister,

Which pass’d all others far;

She would me honey call,

She’d—O she’d kiss me too!

But now, alas! she’s left me,

Falero, lero, loo!

Many a merry meeting

My love and I have had;

She was my only sweeting,

She made my heart full glad;

The tears stood in her eyes

Like to the morning dew:

But now alas! she’s left me,

Falero, lero, loo!

Her cheeks were like the cherry,

Her skin was white as snow;

When she was blithe and merry

She angel-like did show;

Her waist exceeding small,

The fives did fit her shoe:

But now, alas! she’s left me,

Falero, lero, loo!

In summer time or winter

She had her heart’s desire;

I still did scorn to stint her

From sugar, sack, or fire;

The world went round about,

No cares we ever knew:

But now, alas! she’s left me,

Falero, lero, loo!

To maidens’ vows and swearing

Henceforth no credit give;

You may give them the hearing,

But never them believe;

They are as false as fair,

Unconstant, frail, untrue:

For mine, alas! hath left me,

Falero, lero, loo!

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