The Flowers of the Forest (Fraser)/Somebody

SOMEBODY.

Were I oblig’d to beg my bread,
And had not where to lay my head,
I’d creep where yonder flocks do feed,
And steal a look at somebody:

When I'm laid low, and am at rest,
And may be number’d with the blest,
Oh! may thy artless, feeling breast,
Throb with regard for somebody:
Ah! will you drop the pitying tear,
And sigh for the lost somebody.

But should I ever live to see
That form so much ador’d by me,
Then thou’lt reward my constancy,
And I’ll be blest with somebody:
Then shall my tears be dried by thee,
And I’ll be blest with somebody.