Page:Bonny bell (1).pdf/6

( 6 ) Her brother was a wicked blade,

This poor young girl her did peruade

To rob her Mater—wick'd deed!

Which made her tender heart to bleed.

Two hundred pounds in goods they tole<

O now have mercy on their oul!

For they were taken and to die . And in the dreadful cells they lie!

When at the bar this maid tood

The tears ran down jut like a flood

The roes from her cheeks were fled.

She droop'd with heart as cold as lead

When to the bar, poor oul, was brought.

For mercy on her knees he fought!

The Judge unto her then did cry,

There is no help, for you mut die.

When from the bar they did her take.

With grief her heart was like to break;

Her weetheart he was in the Court,

His dearet girl for to upport.

When, back to prion they did go,

And they, mut part—O fatal woe!

The cene of grief no tongue can tell,

When he was led into the cell.