Why, fair maid, in ev’ry feature, Are such signs of fear express’d? Can a wandering wretched creature, With such terrors fill thy breast? Do my frenzied looks alarm thee? Trust me, sweet, thy fears are vain; Not for kingdoms would I harm thee; Shun not then poor Crazy Jane.
Dost thou weep to see my anguish? Mark me, and avoid my woe, When men flatter, sigh and languish, Think them false – I found them so. For I lov’d – Oh, so sincerely, None could ever love again, But the youth I lov’d so dearly, Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.
Fondly my young heart receiv’d him, Which was doom’d to love but one, He sigh’d – he vow’d – and I believed him He was false – and I undone, From that hour has reason never Held her empire o’er my brain: Henry fled – With him for ever Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.
Now forlorn and broken-hearted, And with frenzied thoughts beset, On that spot where we last parted, On that spot where first we met. Still I sing my love-lorn ditty; Still I slowly pace the plain, Whilst each passer-by, in pity, Cries – God help ye, Crazy Jane.