He came from his palace grand He came to my cottage door His words were few but his looks Will linger for evermore The look in his sad dark eyes More tender than words could be But I was nothing to him And he was the world to me. There in her garden she stands All dressed in fine satin and lace Lady Mary so cold and so strange In her heart she could find no place. He knew I would be his bride With a kiss for a lifetime fee But I was nothing to him And he was the world to me. Now in his palace grand On a flower strewn bed he lies His beautiful lids are closed On his sad dark beautiful eyes And among the mourners who mourn Why should I a mourner be For I was nothing to him And he was the world to me. For I was nothing to him And he was the world to me.
He came from his palace grand He came to my cottage door His words were few but his looks Will linger for evermore The look in his sad dark eyes More tender than words could be But I was nothing to him And he was the world to me. There in her garden she stands All dressed in fine satin and lace Lady Mary so cold and so strange In her heart she could find no place. He knew I would be his bride With a kiss for a lifetime fee But I was nothing to him And he was the world to me. Now in his palace grand On a flower strewn bed he lies His beautiful lids are closed On his sad dark beautiful eyes And among the mourners who mourn Why should I a mourner be For I was nothing to him And he was the world to me. For I was nothing to him And he was the world to me.
