The hue of her cheek is the roſe in its bloſſom!
She’s ſwift as the roe, as ſhe ſkips o’er the green;
Dull care flees away, when reclin’d on the boſom
Of Jenny; the flower of ſweet Aberdeen.
Of lovely, &c.
Her mein is compleat, like the form of her perſon;
She’s kind, and ſhe’s tender, and deareſt to me:
The faireſt of women, without all exceptions,
That e’er grac’d the high and ſweet banks the Dee,
For had I been born in the higheſt condition,
And heir to a Sceptre and Crown of a King,
All riches to me would be empty ambition,
If wanting young Jenny of ſweet Aberdeen.
That lovely young, &c.
BLACK-EY’D SUSAN.
ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,
The ſtreamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey’d Suſan came on board:
Oh! where ſhall I my true love find?
Tell me, ye jovial Sailors, tell me true,
Does my ſweet William ſail among your crew?
William, then, high upon the yard,
Rock’d by the billows to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He ſigh’d, and caſt his eyes below.
