'The ugly hen painted
By jealousy tainted,
The pretty hen dyed.
Lamenting his bride,
The cock, bald and bare,
Sobs loud in despair;
The pipal tree grieves
By shedding its leaves;
The buffalo mourns
By casting her horns;
The stream, weeping fast,
Grows briny at last;
The cuckoo with sighs
Blinds one of its eyes;
Bhagtu's grief so intense is,
He loses his senses;
The maidservant wailing
Has taken to railing!'
'Too true!' wept the Queen, 'too true!The world is a vale of tears!There is nothing for it but to try and forget!'Whereupon she set to work dancing away as hard as she could.
By and by in came by Prince, who, seeing her twirling about, said, 'Why, mother! what is the matter?'
The Queen without stopping, gasping out {{block center|<poem>'The ugly hen painted, By jealousy tainted, The pretty hen dyed. Lamenting his bride, The cock, bald and bare, Sobs loud in despair;
