What solace is weeping for even your sorrow?

Get out in the sun and the air!

Let the wind whip your blood up, the sun warm your cheek.

You'll forget all about her to-morrow,

Brooding and moaning is never the way

For a man to remedy pain;

The fields and the woods will cheer you up

Better than moving in here.

Come, rouse yourself up, lad, get along out of doors,

And drive away sorrow to stay.