| Lilacs blossom just as sweet
|
| Now my heart is shattered
|
| If I bowled it down the street
|
| Who’s to say it mattered
|
| If there’s one that rode away
|
| What would I be missing
|
| Lips that taste of tears, they say
|
| Are the best for kissing
|
| Eyes that watch the morning star
|
| Seem a little brighter
|
| Arms held out to darkness are
|
| Usually whiter
|
| Shall I bar the strolling guest
|
| Bind my brow with willow
|
| When, they say, the empty breast
|
| Is the softer pillow
|
| That a heart falls tinkling down
|
| Never think it ceases
|
| Every likely girl in town
|
| Gathers up the pieces
|
| If there’s one gone whistling by
|
| Would I let it grieve me
|
| Let her wonder if I lie
|
| Let her half believe me |