Love has had his way with me
This my heart is torn and maimed
Since he took his play with me
Cruel well the bow-boy aimed
Shot, and saw the feathered shaft
Dripping bright and bitter red
He that shrugged his wings and laughed
Better had he left me dead
Sweet, why do you plead me, then
Who have bled so sore of that?
Could I bear it once again?
Drop a hat, dear, drop a hat!