With a voice as sweet as sugared coffee
The fool sings at last, hurrah!
The play is made with honey like tones
Bitter sweet words, hurrah, hurrah!
The fat lady’s cry shrivels to nothing,
The fool’s beautiful song, hurrah!
The day is done and the sun is the sun,
Moon fall and star rise, hurrah, hurrah!

But what is this? The fool-
His voice has died, boo that!
The song is ended with a sigh,
“More!” Comes the cry, boo, boo!
“Alas,” says the fool, “no more words have I.”
Here comes the plays end, boo- and hurrah!