My Lady Jacqueminot
by Julie Mathilde Lippman

My Lady’s cheek is soft and red,
My Lady holds her lovely head
On high,
And why?
She knows not yet of care or woe.
She only lives to bud and blow,
My foolish Lady Jacqueminot,
She only lives to bud and blow,
My foolish Lady Jacqueminot.

My Lady’s cheek’s less soft and red,
My Lady bows her weary head,
And why?
She’s nigh
A heart that once was light as snow,
But hearts and flowers die, you know,
When broken, Lady Jacqueminot,
But hearts and flowers die,
When broken, Lady Jacqueminot.