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And it's umph! umph! what can the matter be,

Umph! umph! what can the matter be,-(Twice.)

Ephraim, thou'rt going astray. Yea, marvellous 'twas, when mine eyes first went roving,

From meek sister Sarah toward's vanity moving,

I found a profane one it was I was loving;

'Tis truth, &c.

on the

'Twas folly's vain garment, the maid
smiled so good in,
Yea, silk hose and pumps,
ment she stood in,
Which stirr'd up my zeal, as you stir
up a pudding;

pave .

'Tis truth. &c.

When I yea and nay ever pronounce to deceive her,

May I bow down my body to take off
my beaver,

I would cherish the maiden for ever
and ever,
By yea and nay, for thus much }


. wwwwm


And 'tis hump! hump! what can the

matter be,

I verily long to know what will the matter be,

When she is bone of my bone.


O! WHEREFORE weep my sister dear, For truth and innocence are thine? O' cloud not with a falling tear

A cheek where artless graces shine; Let other's weep, remorse who fear, But weep not thou, my sister dear

I love thee well, my sister fair,

Thy bosom does my love return, Thy sorrows, then, O! let me share,

I cannot bear to see thee mourn; Let others weep, reproof who fear, But weep not thou my sister dear.

My sister dear, O! smile once more, I love to see thy laughing eye: My comfort in thy smiles restore,

And thine my music shall supply,
Thy tuneful voice I love to hear,
But weep no more, my sister dear

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WHERE as dewy twilight lingers
O'er the balmy air, love?
Harps seem touch'd by fairy fingers,
Wilt thou meet me there, love?
Where as dewy twilight lingers, &c

While the rapid swallow's flying,

And each distant murmur dying, Leaves alone around us sighing,

Wilt thou meet me there, love? Where as dewy twilight lingers, &c

Where soft gales from beds of flowers,
Fragrant incense bear, love,

Sweet as eastern maidens' bowers,
Wilt thou me there, love?

Where soft gales, from beds of flow.



While the bird of love is singing, Liquid notes around us flinging, Rapture to the full heart bringing, Wilt thou meet me there, love? Where as the dewy twilight lingers, &c



You think I have a merry heart,
Because my songs are gay,
But oh! they all were taught to me
By friends now far away:
The bird retains his silver note,
Though bondage chains his wing;
His song is not a happy one,
I'm saddest when I sing!

I heard them first in that sweet home
I never more shall see,

And now, each song of joy, has got
A plaintive turn for me!
Alas! 'tis vain in winter time
To mock the songs of spring,
Each note recalls some withered leaf,
I'm saddest when I'm sing!

Of all the friends I used to love,
My harp remains alone,

It's faithful voice still seem to be
An echo of my own:

My tears when I bend over it,
Will fall upon its string,
Yet those who hear me, little think
I'm saddest when I'm sing'


Он, no! we never mention her,
Her name is never heard;
My lips are now forbid to speak
That once familiar word,
From spot to spot they hurry me,
To banish my regret;
And when they win a smile from me,
They think that I forget.

They bid me seek in change of scene
The charms that others see;
But were I in a foreign land,

They'd find no change in me. 'Tis true that I behold no more

The valley where we met;
I do not see the hawthorn tree-
But how can I forget!

They tell me she is happy now—
The gayest of the

They hint that she forgets me now.
But I heed not what they say.
Like me perhaps she struggles with
Each feeling of regret;
But if she loves, as I have loved,
She never can forget.

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