Page:Young squire's frolic.pdf/7

 Through lonely wild desarts and hills i'll roam,

To wild birds and sisnes I will make my moan,

All riches and grandeur I now will disdain,

Thro’ the world I will wander for my darling swain.

His breath is more sweet than the roses in June,

His eyes are like diamonds, or the orbs of the moon,

His skin's like clear amber just come from the mine,

He’s cut up to perfection my own darling swain.

My love he is proper, he is tall, and he’s trim,

There’s none in the world that can equal with him;

O all sorrow and trouble I’ll endure without pain,

Was I sure to meet with my own darling swain.

My Father he thought then his point for to gain,

By parting his Daughter from her darling swain;

But now for to vex him, I ever will be

Jamie’s true and constant young Gragal ma Chree.





