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• My love runs by like a day in June, And he makes no friends of sorrows.
  He'll tread his galloping rigadoon In the pathway or the morrows....
• My love, he's mad, and my love, he's fleet, And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
  The ways are fair to his roaming feet, And the skies are sunlit for him....
• My love, he's mad, and my love, he's fleet, And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
  The ways are fair to his roaming feet, And the skies are sunlit for him....
• My own dear love, he is strong and bold And he cares not what comes after.
  His words ring sweet as a chime of gold, And his eyes are lit with laughter....
• My own dear love, he is strong and bold And he cares not what comes after.
  His words ring sweet as a chime of gold, And his eyes are lit with laughter....