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Now swell with rich gifts of the land,
Then let each man take
His prone and rake,
With his cann, and his lass, in his hand.
What mortal can be,
So happy as we,
In innocent pastime and mirth,
While this we carouse,
With our sweethearts and spouse,
And rejoice o'er the fruits of the earth.
THE LADY'S COMPLAINT.
MY Love has fairly promised,
that he would prove true,
No sooner I consented,
but he's left me to rue.
His actions always modest,
his words were sweet and kind,
But he's gone to range the world,
and left me here behind.
But I hope he will return,
as constant as the dove,
When I with open arms,
will meet with my true love.
When we will join our hands,
and happy we will be,
There's none in the world
shall enjoy me but he.
