Moments fled as moments will
Happily enough, until
After, say, a month or two,
Robin did as robins do.
Weary of his lover's play
Jilted her and went away,
Wretched little maiden, she,
Wretched maid of Arcadee.
Wretched maid of Arcadee.

To her little home she crept,
There she sat her down and wept...
Maiden wept as maidens will,
Grew so thin and pale until
Cousin Richard came to woo.
Then again the roses grew.
Happy little maiden she!
Happy maid of Arcadee!
Happy little maiden she!
Happy maid of Arcadee!
Happy maid of Arcadee!