O Sweetheart, hear you 
Your lover's tale; 
A man shall have sorrow 
When friends him fail. 

For he shall know then 
Friends be untrue 
And a little ashes 
Their words come to. 

But one unto him 
Will softly move 
And softly woo him 
In ways of love. 

His hand is under 
Her smooth round breast; 
So he who has sorrow 
Shall have rest.