Page:To the battle march away.pdf/3

 BEAUT FUL ANCY,

'Twas down in a valley, by the fide of a grove, By a clear chryftal fountain I faw my true love, The birds were fiagial the lambs were at play, On a bank of fweet viflets fhe carefelly lay.

When first I beheld her my heart was furpriz’d By the boom of her cheeks, and her fparkling eyes, Young Cupid was crue', he directed his dart, For the fake of my Nancy fhe wounded my heart.

Now here in this torment I ftill do remain, Like a thief that’s sentenc’d I'm hound in love’s chain, No peace night or day can my heart ever find. The thoughts of my Nancy fo trouble my mind.

Bring me pen ink, and piper, all for to write. To my beautiful Nanay, my way and delight. She’s charming fhe’s beautiful, fhe’s pretty & fair, There’s none in the country can with her compare,

Small birds on the branches are b'e with a mate. The dove is a mourning for my haplafs fate; The lark with bar fine notes moermag the air, Brings me no glad tidings from my deareft dear,

Sweet Alison.

Come all you honest lovers, and listen to my thame, For I love a pretty girl, sweet alison by name.