Page:Melodist.pdf/32

32

And it's oh! dear what will become of me!
Oh! dear what shall I do!
Nobody comes to marry me,
Nobody coming to woo.

My father’s an hedger and ditcher,
My mother does nothing but spin.
And I’m a pretty young girl,
But the money comes slowly in.
And it’s Oh! dear, &c.

They say I’m beaut’ous and fair,
They say I’m scornful and proud,
Alas! I must now despair,
For ah! I’m grown very old.
And it’s Oh! dear, &c.

And now I must die an old maid,
Oh dear how shocking the thought!
And all my beauty must fade;
But I’m sure it’s not my fault.
And it’s Oh ! dear, &c.

---

---

The Modest Maid.

Abroad as I was walking,
Down by a shady grove,
I heard a young maid talking,
lamenting for her love.
Then I began to court her,
In a rude and rakish way.