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I wiſh I were a black-bird or thrufh.
Singing my notes from buſh to buſh;
That all the world might plainly ſee,
I lov’d a man, and he lov’d not me.

Or was I but a ſilly fly.
In my love's boſom then would I lie.
When all the world was fall aſleep,
In my love’s boſom then would I creep.

My love he came late In the night,
Seeking for his ſweet-heart's delight;
He ran up ſtairs, the door he broke,
And found his love all in a rope

Then he went up and cut her down,
And in her boſom a note was found,
Wrote in ſhining letters ſo bright,
Enough a mortal’s heart to break.

“Go dig my grave both wide and deep,
And cover it with a marble ſtone;
And in the middle a turtle dove,
To ſhow the world that I dy’d for love.

'Tis not for gold that I lie here,
Nor yet for jewels, know my dear;
But it is for that ſweet Iriſh boy,
That has cauſed my ſad deſtiny.

ANSWER. TO THE RAMBLING BOY.

A' Squire's daughter near Auchnacloy,
fell in love with a ſervant boy,
And when her father came to hear,
He ſeparated her from her dear.