Alas! in winter, dead and dark,Where can poor Robin go?

Winds and waters keepA hush more dead than any sleep.

Scarcely a tear to shed;Hardly a word to say;The end of a Summer's day;Sweet Love is dead.

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woodsAnd day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.

Poor Paddy of all Christian men I thinkOn basest food pours down the vilest drink.

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.