There's many and many, and not so far,

Is willing to dry my tears away;

There's many to tell me what you are,

And never a lie to all they say.

It's little the good to hide my head,

It's never the use to bar my door;

There's many as counts the tears I shed,

There's mourning hearts for my heart is

There's honester eyes than your blue eyes,

There's better a mile than such as you.

But when did I say that I was wise,

And when did I hope that you were true?