The one who's hand I hold
Is not but fool's gold
He who steals my heart,
Of me, he wants no part
If death be at the bottom of the cup,
Then by my love,
Drink up, drink up
For if I cannot be content
Let this be my last day spent
If love be not thy will
Then upon where my blood is spilled
Let there be happiness in death
For I cannot take the rest
It be my will
That I die
If I cannot be thine.
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