Sigh No More Ladies, Sigh No More,

Hung Be The Heavens With Black! Yield, Day, To Night!

When Griping Grief The Heart Doth Wound, And Doleful Dumps The Mind Opresses, Then Music, With Her Silver Sound, With Speedy Help Doth Lend Redress.

It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance

It Warms The Very Sickness In My Heart, That I Shall Live And Tell Him To His Teeth, "thus Diddest Thou;"

Nay, I Am The Very Pink Of Courtesy.