How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear charmer away!
My lodging is on the cold ground, And hard, very hard, is my fare, But that which grieves me more Is the coldness of my dear.
How happy could I be with either, / Were t'other dear charmer away! / But while ye thus tease me together, / To neither a word will I say.
For on the rope that hangs my dear / Depends poor Polly's life.