Page:Shady grove.pdf/3

 There is some of your friends, They think I have no means, They hate me because I am poor, If I had great store of coin, All your friends would me join, They would make up all matters therefore.

Like David and his Clan, Banish'd from his native land, Like Lazarus I am hated too, Which causes me to weep, Every night when I should sleep; my darling still thinking on you

 