We had our day, but now it's over We had our song, but now it's sung We had our stroll through summer's clover The summer's gone now, our walking's done So tell me gently, who'll be your lover? Who'll be your lover after I'm gone? Will it be the moon that hears your sighing? Will it be the willow that hears your lonesome song? Will it be the rain that clings to your bosom? Will it be the sunshine that dries your golden hair? Will it be the wind that warns of my returning? Will a rose be in your arms when I find you waiting there? None but the rain should cling to my bosom None but the moon should hear my lonesome sigh None but the wind should warn of my returning Fare thee well, my love, goodbye