that's trusted faithless n, jo.

i tell you now, c.

the sweetest flower that deck'd the ad,

now trodden like the vilest weed—

let sile id the lesson read

the weird y be her ain, jo.

i tell you now, c.

the bird that char#039;d his suer day,

is now the cruel fowler's prey;

let witless, trusting, won say

how aft her fate's the sa, jo!

i tell you now, c.