Page:Goodman's grief for the ewie wi the crooked horn.pdf/6

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And every time you look on that, think how you ftole away my heart.

THE PIGEON.

WHY tarries my love ? Ah! whene does he rove, ? My love is long abfent from me ; Come hither my dove, I’ll write to my love, And fend him a letter by thee.

To him fwiftly fly, The letter I'll tie Secure to thy leg with a ftring ; Ah not to my leg, Fair Lady, I beg. But faften it under my wing.

Her dove fhe did deck. She drew o’er his neck, A bell'and a collar fo gay, She ty’d to his wing The ferell with a ftring. Then kifs’d him and font him away.

It blew and it rain’d. The pigeon difda’m'd To feek fhelter, undannted he flew Till wet was his wing. And painful the firing, So heavy tha letter it grew