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 Nobody coming to marry me,

nobody coming to woo.

My father’s a hedger and ditcher,

my mother does nothing but spin.

And I am a handsome young girl,

but the money comes slowly in.

They say I am beauteous and fair,

they say I am scornful and proud,

But alas! I must now despair,

for ah! I am grown very old.

And now I must die an old maid,

O dear! how shocking a thought!

And all my beauty must fade,

but I’m sure it is not my own fault.

For its O dear what shall become of me?

O dear what shall I do?

Nobody coming to marry me,

nobody coming to woo.





See the Ship in the bay is riding!

Dearest Helen, I go from thee,

Boldly go, in thy love confiding,

O’er the deep and the trackless Sea,

When thy dear form no more is near me,

When thy sweet smile no longer I see,

This soothing thought shall at midnight chear me,

My Love is breathing a prayer for me.