My merry, merry, merry roundelay Concludes with Cupid’s curse: They that do change old love for new, Pray gods, they change for worse!
Too bad, I'm no poet , I happen to know it, But anyway Here's a roundelay I wrote last night about you...Cole Porter
Crimson clover I discover By the garden gate, And the bees about her hover, But the robins wait. Sing, robins, sing, Sing a roundelay, 'Tis the latest flower of Spring Coming with the May!
Sing away, ay, sing away, Merry little bird Always gayest of the gay, Though a woodland roundelay You ne'er sung nor heard; Though your life from youth to age Passes in a narrow cage.