The sun he is sunk in the west,All creatures retired to rest,While here I sit, all sore beset,With sorrow, grief, and woe:And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!5
The prosperous man is asleep,Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep;But Misery and I must watchThe surly tempest blow:And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!10
There lies the dear partner of my breast;Her cares for a moment at rest:Must I see thee, my youthful pride,Thus brought so very low!And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!15
There lie my sweet babies in her arms;No anxious fear their little hearts alarms;But for their sake my heart does ache,With many a bitter throe:And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!20
I once was by Fortune carest:I once could relieve the distrest:Now life’s poor support, hardly earn’dMy fate will scarce bestow:And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!25
No comfort, no comfort I have!How welcome to me were the grave!But then my wife and children dear—O, wither would they go!And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!30
O whither, O whither shall I turn!All friendless, forsaken, forlorn!For, in this world, Rest or PeaceI never more shall know!And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!35