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118 He cannot eat and he cannot sleep— (Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!) Daily he goes for to wail—for to weep— (Hey, but he's wretched as a youth can be!) She's very thin and she's very pale— (Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!) Daily she goes for to weep-for to wail— (Hey, but I think that little maid will die!) Poor little maid! Poor little man! Poor little maid! Poor little man! Now tell me pray, and tell me true,

If I were the youth I should offer her my name— (Hey, but her face is a sight for to see!) If were the maid I should fan his honest flame— (Hey, but he's bashful as a youth can be!) If I were the youth I should speak to her to-day— (Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!) If I were the maid I should meet the lad half way— (For I really do believe that timid youth will die!) Poor little man! Poor little maid! Poor little man! Poor little maid!

Poor child! I sometimes think that if she wasn't quite so particular I might venture—but no, no—even then I should be unworthy of her!