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You ſaid you lov’d me, Molly dear,
ah! why did I believe!
Yet, who could think ſuch tender words
were meant but to deceive?
That love was all I aſk’d on earth,
this world could give no more:
Ah! gramachree, &c.
Oh! had I all the flocks that graze
on yonder yellow hill;
Or ’low’d for me the num’rous herds
that yen green paſtures fill,
With her I love I’d gladly ſhare
my kine and fleecy ſhore.
Ah! gramachree, &c.
Two turtle doves, above my head,
ſat courting on a bough;
I envy’d them their happineſs
to ſee them bill and coo;
Such fondneſs once for me ſhe ſhew’d,
but now, alas! ’tis o’er.
Ah! gramachree, &c.
THE ANSWER.
Ye gentle winds, that ſoftly blow
along the verdant plain,
Go whiſper to my Strephon’s ear
