Farme（2 / 2）

but for their sake my heart does ache,

with many a bitter throe:

and it's o, fickle fortune, o!

i once was by fortune carest:

i once could relieve the distrest:

now life's poor support, hardly earn'd

my fate will scarce bestow:

and it's o, fickle fortune, o!

no comfort, no comfort i have!

how welcome to me were the grave!

but then my wife and children dear—

o, wither would they go!

and it's o, fickle fortune, o!

o whither, o whither shall i turn!

all friendless, forsaken, forlorn!

for, in this world, rest or peace

i never more shall know!

and it's o, fickle fortune, o!