Chanson Un Peu Naïve

What body can be ploughed,

Sown, and broken yearly?

But she would not die, she vowed,

But she has, nearly.

       Sing, heart sing;

       Call and carol clearly.

And, since she could not die,

Care would be a feather,

A film over the eye

Of two that lie together.

       Fly, song, fly,

       Break your little tether.

So from strength concealed

She makes her pretty boast:

Plain is a furrow healed

And she may love you most.

       Cry, song, cry,

       And hear your crying lost.