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Fer what's the use of sighing,
While time is on the wing?
Can we prevent lis flying?
Then merrilly, merrily sing,
Fal lal.
ON BELVIDERA'S BOSOM LYING.
On Belvidera's bosom lying,
Wishing, panting, sighing dying,
The cold regardless maid to move,
With unavailing prayers I sue,
You first have taught me how to love,
O teach me to be happy too.
But she, alas! unkindly wise,
To all my sighs and tears replies,
'Tis every prudent maid's concern;
Her lover's fondness to improve,
If to be happy you should learn,
You quickly would forget to love.
