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Then fare thee well, my Molly dear,
thy loss I still shall moan;
Whilst life remains in Strephon's heart,
’twill beat for thee alone:
Tho' thou art false, may Heav'n on thee
it’s choleest blessings pour:
Ah! gramachree, &c.
thy loss I still shall moan;
Whilst life remains in Strephon's heart,
’twill beat for thee alone:
Tho' thou art false, may Heav'n on thee
it’s choleest blessings pour:
Ah! gramachree, &c.
The Maid in Bedlam.
One morning very early,
one morning in the spring,
I heard a maid in Bedlam,
who mournfully did sing:
Her chains she rattl’d on her hands,
while sweetly thus sung she,
I love my love, because I know
my love loves me.
one morning in the spring,
I heard a maid in Bedlam,
who mournfully did sing:
Her chains she rattl’d on her hands,
while sweetly thus sung she,
I love my love, because I know
my love loves me.
Oh! cruel were his parents,
who sent my love to sea;
And cruel, cruel was the ship
that bore my love from me:
Yet I love his parents, since they’re his,
altho’ they’ve ruin’d me.
For I love my love, &c.
who sent my love to sea;
And cruel, cruel was the ship
that bore my love from me:
Yet I love his parents, since they’re his,
altho’ they’ve ruin’d me.
For I love my love, &c.
Oh! should it please the pitying pow’rs
to call me to the sky,
to call me to the sky,
