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Long time thou hast been tarrying here, and fain thou would’st me kill,
But faith, dull care, you never shall have thy will
But faith, dull care, you never shall have thy will
Too much care will make a young man grey,
And too much care will turn an old man to clay;
My wife shall dance, and I shall sing so merrily pass the day,
For I hold it one of the wisest things, to drive dull care away.
And too much care will turn an old man to clay;
My wife shall dance, and I shall sing so merrily pass the day,
For I hold it one of the wisest things, to drive dull care away.
FINIS.
