1.
Woods, rocks and mountains, and ye desert places
Where naught but bitter cold and hunger dwells,
Hear a poor maid’s last will killed with disgraces.
Slide softly while I sing, ye silver fountains,
And let your hollow waters like sad bells
‖: Ring :‖ to my woes, while miserable I,
Cursing my fortunes, ‖: drop :‖ (×3) a tear and die.
2.
Griefs, woes and groanings, hopes and all such liars
I give to broken hearts that daily weep;
To all poor maids in love, my lost desires.
Sleep sweetly, while I sing my bitter moanings,
And list may hollow lovers that ne’er keep
‖: Truth :‖ in their hearts, while miserable I,
Cursing my fortunes, ‖: drop :‖ (×3) a tear and die.