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 I'd be your guardian thro' thoſe deſarts unknown,

Until with your parents I'd leave you at home.

Sir, where is your country, I'd wiſh for to know,

And what's the misfortunes you did undergo?

That caus'd you to wander ſo far from your home,

And made us meet ſtrangers in this deſart alone.

He ſays, my ſweet fair one the truth I will tell,

If I was in my own country near Newry I dwell,

But yet to misfortunes my love I was prone,

Which made many a hero go far from his home.

Sir the lads of ſweet Newry are all roving blades,

And take great delight in courting fair maids,

They kiſs them & preſs them, & callthem their own,

And perhaps your darling lies mourning at home.

Believe me my jewel, the caſe is not ſo,

I never was married, the truth you muſt know,

So theſe ſtrangers agreed as the caſe it is known,

And I with them bothhkappy & ſafe to their home,

Ing William in Ireland you plainly do know,

He conquer'd old Jamie with a martial blow;

For the Proteſtant int'reſt, he firmly did ſtand,

To baniſh black Pap'ry quite out of the land.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Since now Pope & Prelate has join'd hand in hand,

And are partly concerned as I underſtand,

To a free toleration of black Popery,

Which now like a cloud o'er Britain does flie, etc.

Our Worthies of Scotland in the days of old,

The events of Popery they often foretold;