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 IF I had all the diamonds

that grows in yonder hill,

would them to my laddie,

if he would for me feel.

If I had a tongue to prattle,

I would tell my love fine tales,

to the bonny weaver laddie,

my mind I would reveal.

Now ſince my love is from me gone

his face I'll never ſee,

He's left me here behind him

in woe and miſery.

But I hope he will return

ſafe back to me again;

That bonny weaver laddie

that's won this heart of mine.





On the ſecond day of auguſt,

Eighteen hundred and one,

As we ſailed with Lord Nelſon,

to the ports of Toulon

For to cut out ſome ſhipping,

which proved all in vain;

But to our miſfortune

they were all moor'd by chain.