Page:Corn rigs are bonny.pdf/4

4 Lovely maid, lovely maid, I adore thee, Lovely maid, I adore thee.

By those dark raven locks which so gracefully flow, In affectionate wreaths o'er thy forehead of snow; By the loves and the lures, in those dimples that play, And by all the bright charms which thy perfections display, I swear, dearest maid, &c.

When old Time shall have stol'n that sweet bloom from thy face, And bereav'd thy fair form of its beauty and grace; Still sincere to its vow this fond heart shalt thou find; Still revering thy worth and admiring thy mind; I swear, dearest maid, &c.

My mam is no more, and my dad's in his grave, Little orphans are sister and I, sadly poor; Industry our wealth, and no dwelling we have, But yon neat little cottage, that stands in the moor.

The lark’s early song does to labour invite, Contented, we just keep the wolf from the door: