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 I suppose your friends will never be pleas’d, they are grown so lofty and high, Yet I’ll never prove false to the girl I love, till the Stars fall from the sky!

Suppose the Stars never fall from the sky, and the rocks never melt with the Sun, Yet I ne’er will prove false to the girl I love, till all these things be done.

Suppose these things should never be down, while you and I do live, Yet I’ll never prove false to the girl I love, till we both go to one grave.

O don’t you see yon little Turtle Dove, that sits on yonder tree, Making a lament for its true-love! and so will I for thee, my dear, and so will I for thee.

So now we must part, my dearest love, perhaps to meet no more; I hope you’ll mind your promise to me, till you return on shore, till you return on shore.