Goodnight to you angel fair,

Until we meet tomorrow.

Goodnight to thee of auburn hair

Who knows no thing called sorrow.

Some say this love won't stay.

That it simply won't endure.

Let them say what they may,

I say this love is pure.

One told me to leave you be,

To stop this love, pretending.

I hope that all can see,

that this love is pure, unending.

This, I say, is the truth,

Though my words are uncouth.