His face is not one you'd call handsome,
Most women wouldn't look at him twice,
But should some rogues hold him for ransom,
I would gladly pay their asking price

They say he's devoid of all treasure . . .
No wealth or landholdings,  so I'm told,
But I find riches beyond measure
In his silver hair and heart of gold

His love is the fortune that I seek --
It's not found in diamonds or in jade;
Though our cottage be humble and meek,
No palace would I accept in trade

Vile temptations, your labor's in vain!
Never could opulence take the place
Of the man, who like a king shall reign
In my heart . . . though common be his face