On your midnight pallet lying, 
Listen, and undo the door: 
Lads that waste the light in sighing 
In the dark should sigh no more; 
Night should ease a lover's sorrow; 
Therefore, since I go to-morrow, 
Pity me before. 

In the land to which I travel, 
The far dwelling, let me say-- 
Once, if here the couch is gravel, 
In a kinder bed I lay, 
And the breast the darnel smothers 
Rested once upon another's 
When it was not clay.