Page:Drunkard's consolation on the ale being raised.pdf/8

                           [  8  ] When tired of war, then they patch up a peace, Provisions they’ve rose, and the taxes encr safe. And no body knows when they shall be releas’d.

O the sorrowful cafe of Old England, etc.

BEAUTIFUL NANCY.

TWas down in a valley, by the side of a grove, By a clear chrystal fountain I saw my true love, The birds were a singing, the lambs; were at play, On a bank of sweet violets she carelessly lay.

When first I beheld her my heart was surpriz’d, By the bloom of her cheeks, and her sparkling eyes; Young Cupid was cruel, he directed his dart, For the sake of my Nancy she wounded my heart.

Now here in this torment I still do remain, Like a thief that's sentenc’d, I’m bound in love’s chain, No peace night or day can my heart ever find, The thoughts of my Nancy so trouble my mind.

Bring me pen, ink, and paper, all for to write, To my beautiful Nancy, my joy and delight, She’s charming, she’s beautiful, she's pretty & fair, There’s none in the country can with her compare.

Small birds on the branches are blest with a mate, The dove is a mourning for my hapless fate, The lark with her fine notes mounting the air, Brings me no glad tidings from my dearest dear.

Farewel dearest Nancy, since we muff parted be, I'll away to the mountains where none shall me see, The rocks shall hide me, & bring me to my grave, So farewel Nancy, since I cannot you have.

Glasgow, Printed by J. & M, Robertson, Saltmarket. 1802.