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AS I lay musing all alone,
Down by yon shady grove,
There I beheld a youthful swain,
Was sore lap’d up in Cupid’s chain,
Lamenting for his love.
I sat myself down all under an oak,
To hear his pityful moan,
Still all his cry was cruel maid,
You’ve my tender heart betray’d,
I languish and die alone.
This fair maid was standing by,
And heard his pityful moan,
She says, you charming youthful swain,
You shall no longer here complain,
To languish and die alone.
Some do rail against my love,
because he’s low and poor,
But let them all say what they will,
I shall adore my charmer still,
And I love him still the more.
When sweet slumber had clos’d mine eyes,
I dreamed of my true love,
I dreamed he in my arms did lie,
And on his breast he pressed me,
Like any true turtle dove.
