A dame of high degree
Is she, is she,
The gentle Migninette,
And at her side,
In honest pride,
Stands my sweet Bouncing Bet.
Her kerchief folded neat,
And sweet,
Her bodice rosy-red,
My heart she holds,
In its soft folds,
And yet--we do not wed!

For once I raised mine eye
Too high I loved fair Mignonette!
She never knew,
She thought me true
To humble Bouncing Bet.
Sweet hopeless Love, if wise
Soon dies
And "here's a maid," I said,
"She's lovely fair,
And waits, I swear"
And yet I do not wed!