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And presently send him a letter,and tell him what pain and smart;Lately caused by his absence,which makes me in tears complain,For why, I shall never be happy,till Billy comes home again.
My heart it has more upon it,than a maid is able to bear;I'll sit down and sing a sonnetof Billy my only dear:Each night I dream that I’m with him,in tempest of wind and rain;But O if I could but see him,then I should be happy again.
Now Bedlam I will split asunder,hark, hark how the chamber rings,The eagle’s nest I will plunder,and borrow her spreading wings:I’ll mount the wide air for my jeweland swiftly fly over the main;Though fortune at present be cruel,I hope I shall see him again.
As she in tears was lamenting,the young man a letter had penn'd,And sent it away to his discontented,by the hand of a faithful friend:It was writ by thine own dear jewel,I'd have thee no more to complain;Though fortune at present be cruel,I hope that we shall meet again.
