Full Lyrics
Love is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing;
A plant that with most cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.
Why so? If we enjoy it, soon it dies;
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,
Hey ho, hey ho!
Love is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting;
A heaven has made it of a kind,
Not well— nor full, nor fasting.
Why so? If we enjoy it, soon it dies;
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,
Hey ho, hey ho!
