Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/122



It rained so hard, a dreadful rain, And it was muddy, Ah, so very muddy. Still I used to go and see you In spite of all that, Ah, in spite of all that. The more I loved you true, and well, The falser were you, sad to tell; That was all the thanks, Ah, that was all the thanks.

The nightingale is a small bird Very hard to catch, Ah, very hard to catch. A lover’s eyes are quick to see And won’t be deceived, Ah, and won’t be deceived. Before you will play false to me, I’ll choose a soldier’s life and be A warrior free, Ah, maid, so false to me.

Do you dream me sorrow-stricken? Weighed by heartaches down, Ah, weighed by heartaches down. Have I asked you for your daughter? That you think me blind, Ah, that you think me blind. There are maidens all too many, Like the berries on the holly, When one looks around, Ah, when one looks around.