Ah, poor Louise! the livelong day 
She roams from cot to castle gay; 
And still her voice and viol say, 
Ah, maids, beware the woodland way, 
Think on Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! The sun was high, 
It smirch'd her cheek, it dimm'd her eye, 
The woodland walk was cool and nigh, 
Where birds with chiming streamlets vie 
To cheer Louise. 

Ah, poor Louise! The savage bear 
Made ne'er that lovely grove his lair; 
The wolves molest not paths so fair- 
But better far had such been there 
For poor Louise. 

Ah, poor Louise! In woody wold 
She met a huntsman fair and bold; 
His baldric was of silk and gold, 
And many a witching tale he told 
To poor Louise. 

Ah, poor Louise! Small cause to pine 
Hadst thou for treasures of the mine; 
For peace of mind that gift divine, 
And spotless innocence, were thine, 
Ah, poor Louise! 

Ah, poor Louise! Thy treasure's reft! 
I know not if by force or theft, 
Or part by violence, part by gift; 
But misery is all that's left 
To poor Louise. 

Let poor Louise some succour have! 
She will not long your bounty crave, 
Or tire the gay with warning stave- 
For Heaven has grace, and earth a grave, 
Poor poor Louise.