The beauteous maiden that was thee
Has sneaked beyond my sight.
Though hidden, I remember so fondly,
Before I would sleep at night
I myself am no wondrous Adonis,
Though love did strike correctly,
And I made more than a promise
To love thee, until ending of eternity.
One can't destroy such a memory.
Of charm that overtook my heart
Thus, at last, I am able to see,
Thy love is there, we will never, ever part
And beauty, being thus skin deep,
Forever our own true love to keep.
Old Haggard is without a home,
He roams the streets with nowhere to go,
And, in some quiet park, in London,
A bench, where he lays his weary dome,