My Lady Jacqueminot

My Lady's cheek is soft and red,

My Lady holds her lovely head

On high, and why?

She knows not yet of care or woe.

She only lives to bud and blow,

My foolish Lady Jacqueminot.

My Lady's cheek less soft and red,

My Lady bows her weary head,

And why? She's nigh

A heart that once was light as snow,

But hearts and flowers, die you know

When broken, Lady Jacqueminot.