The jester stays to play the fool Marooned high on the judge's stool With naught but loons for him to rule Bewails his heart betrayed him cruel The object of his jaundiced eye Having wept a sea is quite wrung dry But promises that by and by Her grief demands another try Could it be that all our love's in vain? In deference to this sad affair The minstrel deigns to woo the pair He sets his mask of mock despair And turns this melancholy air In sympathy the Minstrel sighs Of lovers who now love despise Who swore in spite it spurned they'd die To this melancholy lullaby