Kind lady, ask me not to sing 
The joys of other days; 
Chide not my muse, though she refuse 
To bask in Memory's rays. 

I would that all my youthful joys 
Could vanish from my sight; 
For ah! my heart is very sad: 
I cannot sing tonight. 

I cannot, I cannot, cannot sing tonight; 
For ah! my heart is very sad: 
I cannot sing tonight. 

Sing last we met, ten thousand joys 
Have faded from our view; 
The magic of our youth has fled, 
Our eyes have shed their dew.

Since last we met, ten thousand griefs 
On me have spent their might; 
But ah! my heart is very sad: 
I cannot sing tonight. 

I cannot, I cannot, cannot sing tonight; 
For ah! my heart is very sad: 
I cannot sing tonight.