Young mademoiselle Isabella Marceau stood in front of the mirror
Her beauty as pure as water of a crystal clear river
Lips so red like rose buds
Eyes that shone like diamonds
Hairs like a black cascade
Jewels of coral emerald shade
She wore a wonderful red dress in her pliant hour
Her peerless beauty was like a blooming flower
Her soft and rosy cheeks so chubby
Waiting for a light cuddle from her hubby
She looked through a glass window like curious doe
And the sound of the doorbell made her face glow
Bating that it could only be her husband monsieur Marceau
She opened the door and he kissed her brow
A crimson blush came over her innocent face
The depth of her shyness was hard to trace
With an honest frankness he asked her to see
The love for her in his eyes which was infinite as the sea
Her hubby showed all the gallantries
Even at the time full of sprightly sallies
Monsieur Marceau asked her for a dance
And she gave an approving glance
Like a cherub she danced so coquettish
With her love in their living room so lavish
Alas! Everything was fading away
Leaving her alone with the memories there
It was nothing but a glimpse of the past
A month before her beloved died in a blast
She looked at his picture as a darling treasure
the essence of their love that none could measure
The loss of monsieur Marceau was her sorest sting
A feeling of so much agony that no time could ever bring
The charming Isabella now altered by grief, so passionless
Is her life that in her soul there is complete desertness
Dejected, forlorn and left in the lurch
Weeping she sings a swollen dirge