To - - - - -Go—you may call it madness, folly;You shall not chase my gloom away.There’s such a charm in melancholy,I would not, if I could, be gay.Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasureThat fills my bosom when I sigh,You would not rob me of a treasureMonarchs are too poor to buy.
Go—you may call it madness, folly;You shall not chase my gloom away.There’s such a charm in melancholy,I would not, if I could, be gay.Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasureThat fills my bosom when I sigh,You would not rob me of a treasureMonarchs are too poor to buy.