Six excellant (sic) new songs (1)/Why Fair Maid in Every Feature
Appearance
For other versions of this work, see Crazy Jane (Lewis).
WHY FAIR MAID IN EV'RY FEATURE
Why fair maid in ev'ry feature,
Are such signs of fear exprest,
Cana wand'ring wretched creature,
With such terror fill thy breast.
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee?
Trust me sweet thy fears are vain,
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee.
Shun not then poor Crazy Jane.
Are such signs of fear exprest,
Cana wand'ring wretched creature,
With such terror fill thy breast.
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee?
Trust me sweet thy fears are vain,
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee.
Shun not then poor Crazy Jane.
Dost thou weep to see my anguish,
Mark me and avoid my woe;
When men flatter sigh and languish,
Think them false I found them so,
For I loved. Oh so sincerely,
None could ever love again,
But the youth I lov'd so dearly,
Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.
Mark me and avoid my woe;
When men flatter sigh and languish,
Think them false I found them so,
For I loved. Oh so sincerely,
None could ever love again,
But the youth I lov'd so dearly,
Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.
Fondly my young heart receiv'd him,
Which was doom'd to love but one,
He sigh'd, he vow'd and I believ'd him,
He was false, and I undone.
From that hour has reason never,
Held her empire o'er my brain,
Henry fled—with him for ever,
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.
Which was doom'd to love but one,
He sigh'd, he vow'd and I believ'd him,
He was false, and I undone.
From that hour has reason never,
Held her empire o'er my brain,
Henry fled—with him for ever,
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.
Now forlorn and broken-hearted,
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where first we met,
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty,
Still I slowly pace the plain,
While each passerby in pity,
Cries God helpthee Crazy Jane.
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where first we met,
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty,
Still I slowly pace the plain,
While each passerby in pity,
Cries God helpthee Crazy Jane.