Classic Poem

Oh, I'd been better dying,
Oh, I was slow and sad;
A fool I was, a-crying
About a cruel lad!

But there was one that found me,
That wept to see me weep,
And had his arm around me,
And gave me words to keep.

And I'd be better dying,
And I am slow and sad;
A fool I am, a-crying
About a tender lad!