that's trusted faithless man, jo.
i tell you now, &c.
the sweetest flower that deck'd the mead,
now trodden like the vilest weed—
let simple maid the lesson read
the weird may be her ain, jo.
i tell you now, &c.
the bird that charm'd his summer day,
is now the cruel fowler's prey;
let witless, trusting, woman say
how aft her fate's the same, jo!
i tell you now, &c.