Oh never weep for love that?s dead 
Since love is seldom true 
But changes his fashion from blue to red, 
From brightest red to blue, 
And love was born to an early death 
And is so seldom true. 

Then harbour no smile on your bonny face 
To win the deepest sigh. 
The fairest words on truest lips 
Pass on and surely die, 
And you will stand alone, my dear, 
When wintry winds draw nigh.

Sweet, never weep for what cannot be, 
For this God has not given. 
If the merest dream of love were true 
Then, sweet, we should be in heaven, 
And this is only earth, my dear, 
Where true love is not given.