Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.
Oh! where do fairies hide their heads, When snow lies on the hills, When frost has spoiled their mossy beds, And crystallized their rills?
Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou may'st be.
I'd be a butterfly; living a rover, Dying when fair things are fading away.
Why don't the men propose, Mamma? Why don't the men propose?
Oh, pilot! 'tis a fearful night, There's danger on the deep.