At a party or celebration there's not to be found
a woman as beautiful as my Mary.
She has soft white skin that would
put a lily to shame.
In this world there's not one heart as loving
nor a girl who is more true,
amongst young or old she's the flower of the women,
she is the pride of the land.
The hair of my love is like rings of gold
tumbling down towards the ground
across a fair neck and broad shoulders.
Her appearance is like a picture.
Although each star in the sky is pure and distinct
the eyes of my love are purer,
and sweeter is the voice of my young girl
than the soft harps of the universe.
Amid young people in shoe-leather
from floor, court or pavillion
never yet did any man stand beside
a dancer half as as beautiful;
if she broke one young man's heart
it's no lie to say she broke hundreds,
until1 the women are dying2 each day
with the depth and strength of their envy.
At a party or celebration there's not to be found
a woman as beautiful as my Mary.
She has soft white skin that would
put a lily o shame.
In this world there's not one heart as loving
nor a girl who is more true,
amongst young or old she's the flower of the women,
she is the pride of the land.
1. I suspect the apostrophe at the beginning of the line is a transcription error, so that the word is "gus" (until, to the point of, etc) rather than "agus" (and)2. lit: "getting death"