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THE
MELODIST
&c.
Beneath the Willow Tree.
Oh! take me to your arms, my love,
For keen the wind doth blow;
Oh! take me to your arms, my love,
For bitter is my woe:
She hears me not, she cares not,
Nor will she list to me,
And here I lie in misery
Beneash the willow-tree.
For keen the wind doth blow;
Oh! take me to your arms, my love,
For bitter is my woe:
She hears me not, she cares not,
Nor will she list to me,
And here I lie in misery
Beneash the willow-tree.
My love has wealth and beauty,
The rich attend the door;
My love has wealth and beauty,
And I, alas! am poor:
The ribbon fair that bound her hair,
Is all that's left to me,
While here I lie in misery
Beneath the willow-tree!
The rich attend the door;
My love has wealth and beauty,
And I, alas! am poor:
The ribbon fair that bound her hair,
Is all that's left to me,
While here I lie in misery
Beneath the willow-tree!
I once had gold and silver,
I thought them without end;
I once had gold and silver,
And thought I had a friend;
I thought them without end;
I once had gold and silver,
And thought I had a friend;
A2
