"And should he know your love for me,
A sorely punished maid I'd be."
"Now, foolish maid, we're far away,
How could your father know, I pray?"
"How could my father know, you say?
He'd hear it from the wood doves grey."
"But even though the doves might sing,
He'd never know the tale they bring."
"He would not understand, think you?
They speak good French—and Latin too."
"Now may his evil neck be wrung
Who taught the doves the Latin tongue!"
Sautez mignonne Cecilia,
Ah! ah, Cecilia!
