Beggarman thief, who took my heart:
Do you think that you can use it?
Where will you hide it, and what will they say-
That you had audacity, to choose it?

Beggarman thief, it's a useless heart,
And won't further your aims or plans;
You see, it's already been used up-
Wrung dry by another's hands.

Beggarman thief, it's an empty choice
You've fastened your wiles upon;
For all you'll find are some children's jacks-
And some dreams, once in a song.