| Gone, gone, the girl in brocade
|
| Gone, the words we might have said
|
| Howl winds, because she is dead
|
| And gone, gone, gone
|
| Where teary, teary eyes once bright
|
| Weary, sighs the tune
|
| Dreary, dreary for all the night
|
| And eerie light of the moon
|
| Dreary, dreary
|
| Dreary, dreary
|
| Gone, gone, my Beatrice
|
| Gone, the lips I longed to kiss
|
| Into a black and bleak abyss
|
| Gone, gone, gone
|
| (Gone are the summers of croquet and cabbage)
|
| Where teary, teary eyes once bright
|
| Weary, sighs the tune
|
| (Gone, gone, are the winters of snow)
|
| Dreary, dreary for all the night
|
| And eerie light of the moon
|
| (Sigh, the secrets gone, too).
|
| Where teary, teary eyes once bright
|
| Weary, sighs the tune
|
| (Silver springs, golden falls.)
|
| Dreary, dreary for all the night
|
| And eerie light of the moon
|
| Dreary, dreary
|
| Dreary, dreary |