Come all you fair and tender ladies, take warning how you court young men. They're like the stars of a summer's morning, first they'll appear, and then they're gone.
They'll tell to you some loving story and make you think they love you well, and then they'll go and love another, and leave you in your grief to dwell.
Te souviens-tu d'nos jours d'amour, deux oisillons qui font la sieste? Si tu me disais, je te croirais que le solei se lève à l'ouest.
So never cast your eye on beauty, for beauty it will soon decay. The fairest flower in the garden will whither soon and fade away.

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