My wife is wide, I cannot get o'er
Neither have I wings to fly
But first it bent and then it broke
So did my love prove false to me

I reached my finger into some soft bush
Thinking the fairest flower to find
But not so deep as the love I'm in
I know not if I sink or swim

I pricked my finger to the bone
And left the fairest flower behind
But love grows old and waxes cold
And fades away like the morning dew

or something like that...