My Pretty Brunette.
DEAR Nancy, I've sail'd the wide world around,
And seven long years been a rover,
To make for my charmer each shilling a pound,
But now my hard perils are over.
I've sav'd from my toils many hundreds in gold,
The comforts of life to beget:
Have born in each climate the heat and the cold,
And all for my pretty Brunette.
Then say my sweet girl, can you love me?
Though others may boast of more riches than mine
And rate my attractions e'en fewer,
At their jeers and ill nature I'll scorn to repine,
Can they boast of a heart that is truer?
Or will they for thee plough the hazardous main,
Brave the seasons both stormy and wet?
If not, why I'll do it again and again,
And all for my pretty Brunette.
Then say, my sweet girl, &c.
When order'd afar, in pursuit of a foe,
I sigh at the bodings of fancy,
Which fain would persuade me I might be laid low,
And, ah! never more see my Nancy!
But hope, like an angel, soon banish'd the thought,
And bade me such nonsense forget;
I took the advice, and undauntedly fought,
And all for my pretty Brunette.
Then say, my sweet girl, &c.
FINIS.