And now I have another lad!
No longer need you tell
How all my nights are slow and sad
For loving you too well

His ways are not your wicked ways
He's not the like of you
He treads his path of reckoned days
A sober man, and true

They'll never see him in the town
Another on his knee
He'd cut his laden orchards down
If that would pleasure me

He'd give his blood to paint my lips
If I should wish them red
He prays to touch my finger-tips
Or stroke my prideful head

He never weaves a glinting lie
Or brags the hearts he'll keep
I have forgotten how to sigh
Remembered how to sleep

He's none to kiss away my mind
A slower way is his
Oh, Lord! On reading this, I find
A silly lot he is