The Black-bird/Wandering Mary

by Anonymous

Wandering Mary.

Bleak blows the storm upon that breast,
 Whose guest is life-consuming sorrow;
Oh! take me to some place of rest,
 Where I may slumber ’till to-morrow.
You view my face, it once was fair,
 At least so said my charming Harry;
But he is gone, and black despair
 Is all that’s left to Wand'ring Mary.
   Is all that’s left, &c.

So thief am I, as some alledge,
 Tho’ sore hath cold and hunger try’d me;
I pluck the haw-berry from the hedge,
 When human aid is oft deny’d me.
But hush, my babe! tho’ large the load
 Of woes that we are doom’d to carry,
Witihn some cold grave's bleak abode
 You'll sweetly sleep with Wand’ring Mary
   You'll sweetly sleep, &c.

 

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