I sang two little songs one day,
I sang them for a lady’s pleasure,
I took her praise for wreath of bay,
Her smile for largess beyond measure.
I sang out in the market square
And most folk could not understand;
One who by chance was passing there
Dropped down some silver in my hand.
Now since the songs I gave you, Sweet,
Have turned to silver fair and gleaming,
For your pleasaunce as is most meet
The silver turns to song and dreaming.