Page:Drunken tar of Sunderland.pdf/8

 ( 8 ) She's the primrofe of this country, like Venus in her air ; Let her go where fhe will, fhe is my joy and deer.

My love will not come near me, for all the mean I make ; And neither will fhe came if my poor heart it fhould break ; Tho fhe were born of noble blood, and I am low degree. She might hear my lamentation, and come and pity me.

But be it fo or be it not. I'll take her at my chance; The firft time I faw my love, fhe ftruck me in a trance! Her ruby lips and fparkling ceyes bath fo bewitched me, If I was king of Ireland queen of it fhe fhould be.

I wifh I was fome valiant man, Jet on a pleafant bench. And ev'ry lad a bottle of wine, and on his knee a wench ; We would call for liquor merrily, and fay before we go ; And range thro' the groves. let the wind blow high or low, FINIS,