Standing at the footbridge I waited each night,
My lantern raised high, with its brilliant light,
Until he safely passed, one side to the other,
Only to watch him fall into the arms of another

Now my lantern is cold, no flame burning bright,
No more do I search for those lost in the night;
Next to the hearth, on pillows strewn o'er the floor,
I sip sherry with the wanderer who knocked at my door