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Young Damon came with Cupid’s art, his wiles, his smiles, his charms beguiling,He stole away my virgin heart; cease, poor Amyntor, cease bewailing:Some brighter beauty you may find, on yonder plain the nymphs are many;Then chuse some heart that’s unconfin’d, and leave to Damon his own Annie.
The Banks of Banna.
As down on Banna’s banks I stray’d, one evening in May,The little birds, in blythest notes, made vocal ev’ry spray;They sung their little notes of love, they sung them o’er and o’er;Ah! gramachree, mo, challeenouge, mo Molly astore.
The daisy pied, and all the sweets the dawn of nature yields;The primrose pale, the vi'let blue, lay scatter’d o’er the fields:Such fragrance in the bosom lies of her whom I adore: Ah! gramachree, &c.
