6
With muckle joy my heart was fill‘d,
But now alas with sorrow kill‘d;
Oh, was she but as true as fair,
‘Twould put an end to my despair;
But oh! alas this is unkind,
Which sore does terrify my mind,
‘Tis o‘er, &c.
That Jenny stole my heart away.
Did she but feel the dismal woe,
That for her sake I undergo,
She surely then would grant relief,
And put an end to all my grief;
But oh, she is as false as fair,
Which causes all my sad despiar:
She triumphs in a proud disdain,
And takes delight to see my pain.
‘Tis o'er, &c.
Hard was my hap to fall in love,
With one that does so faithless prove,
Hard was my fate to court the maid,
That has my constant heart betray’d;
A thousand times to me she swore,
She would be true for evermore,
But oh, alas, with grief I say,
She's stole my heart and run away.
'Tis o'er, &c.
