Last Night, When At Parting Awhile We Did Stand, Suddenly Starting, There Fell On My Hand Something That Burned It, Something That Shone In The Moon As I Turned It, And Then It Was Gone. One Bright Stray Jewel-- What Made It Stray? Was I Cold Or Cruel, At The Close Of Day? Oh, Do Not Cry, Lass! What Is Crying Worth? There Is No Lass Like My Lass In The Whole Wide Earth.