THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL.
On Richmond Hill there lives a lass
More bright than May-day morn,
Whose charms all other maids surpass—
A rose without a thorn.
This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet.
Has won my right good-will;
I'd crowns resign to call her mine—
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.
Ye zephyrs gay, that fan the air,
And wanton through the grove,
Oh, whisper to my charming fair,
I'd die for her I love!
How happy will the shepherd be
Who calls this nymph his own!
Oh, may her choice be fix'd on me?
Mine's fix'd on her alone.
James Upton.