I'd be a butterfly born in a bower,
Where roses and lilies and violets meet;
Roving for ever from flower to flower,
Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet.
I'd never languish for wealth or for power,
I'd never sigh to see slaves at my feet;
I'd be a butterfly born in a bower,
Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet.
I'd be a butterfly
I'd be a butterfly
Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet.
Oh! Could I pilfer the wand of a fairy,
I'd have a pair of those beautiful wings.
Their summer day's ramble is sportive and airy,
They sleep in a rose when the nightingale sings.
Those who have wealth must be watchful and wary,
Power, alas! Nought but misery brings;
I'd be a butterfly, sportive and airy.
Rocked in a rose when the nightingale sings.
I'd be a butterfly
I'd be a butterfly
Rocked in a rose when the nightingale sings
What though you tell me each gay little rover
Shrinks from the breath of the first autumn day;
Surely 'tis better, when summer is over,
To die, when all fair things are fading away.
Some in life's winter may toil to discover
Means of procuring a weary delay:
I'd be a butterfly, living a rover,
Dying when fair things are fading away.
I'd be a butterfly
I'd be a butterfly
Dying when fair things are fading away.