Song # 5

It is the summer of the year.
The birds are singing, flowers are.
But my dear Love not with me here.
She's gone from earth; please, God, this hear!

So, I do walk the streets so sad.
A pain that swells my heart with hurt.
I am aching very bad.
I've zero joy, I am not glad.

I want to die to be with her,
Wherever she may be or be.
I death instead of life prefer.
Oh, death, yes, death; soon, soon, occur!

The world for me has nothing worth
For in it I have not mirth.