4
Lovely maid, lovely maid, I adore thee,
Lovely maid, I adore thee.
By those dark raven locks which so gracefully flow,
In affectionate wreaths o'er thy forehead of snow;
By the loves and the lures, in those dimples that play,
And by all the bright charms which thy perfections display,
I swear, dearest maid, &c.
When old Time shall have stol'n that sweet bloom from thy face,
And bereav'd thy fair form of its beauty and grace;
Still sincere to its vow this fond heart shalt thou find;
Still revering thy worth and admiring thy mind;
I swear, dearest maid, &c.
THE LITTLE COTTAGE.
My mam is no more, and my dad's in his grave,
Little orphans are sister and I, sadly poor;
Industry our wealth, and no dwelling we have,
But yon neat little cottage, that stands in the moor.
The lark’s early song does to labour invite,
