Begone, dull care!

Begone, dull care! I prithee begone from me!

Begone, dull care! you and I shall never agree.

Long time hast thou been tarrying here

And fain thou woulds't me kill,

But, i' faith, dull care,

Thou never shall have my will.

Too much care will make a young man turn grey,

And too much care will turn an old man to clay.

My wife shall dance and I will sing

And merrily pass the day

For I hold it one of the wisest things

To drive dull care away.