The Trifler

Death's the lover that I'd be taking

Wild and fickle and fierce is he

Small's his care if my heart be breaking

Gay young Death would have none of me



Hear them clack of my haste to greet him!

No one other my mouth had kissed

I had dressed me in silk to meet him

False young Death would not hold the tryst



Slow's the blood that was quick and stormy

Smooth and cold is the bridal bed

I must wait till he whistles for me

Proud young Death would not turn his head



I must wait till my breast is wilted

I must wait till my back is bowed

I must rock in the corner, jilted

Death went galloping down the road



Gone's my heart with a trifling rover

Fine he was in the game he played

Kissed, and promised, and threw me over

And rode away with a prettier maid