Page:Songs of a Savoyard.djvu/71

Rh

HAVE a song to sing, O! Sing me your song, O! It is sung to the moon
 * By a love-lorn loon,
 * Who fled from the mocking throng, O!

It's the song of a merryman, moping mum, Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum, Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
 * As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
 * Heighdy! heighdy!
 * Misery me—lackadaydee!

He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
 * As he sighed for the love of a ladye!