Fresh, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red—

What fool would send them back?

Why do I wish that I were dead,

With all these jacks from Jack?

Why do I bite my lips and frown,

Tear buttons off my sacque,

When, just returning to the town,

I get these jacks from Jack?

Alas, for pleasure's giddy whirl,

For summer lost, alack!

He's off to see some other girl;

That's why mere jacks from Jack.