Page:Songster's garland.pdf/12

 And it's oh dear, what will become of me?

Oh dear, what shall I do?

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 pretty young girl,

And the money comes slowly in.

And it's oh, &c.

They say I am beauteous and fair ;

They say I am scornful and bold;

Alas I must now despair,

For ah, I am grown very old.

And it's oh, &c.

And now I must die an old maid,

Oh dear, how shocking the thought,

And all my beauty must fade,

But I'm sure it is not my own fault.

And it's oh, &c.

THE HIGHLAND WIDOW.

OH' I am come to the Low country,

Ochon, ochon, ochrie ;

Without a penny in my purse,

To buy a meal to me.