I feel so weak and overcame
That tears would flow from my eye-lid,
Did not my stern manhood forbid,
For Tirzah Ann—for Tirzah Ann,
I am a melancholy man.
I’m wasting slow, my last year’s vest
Hangs loose on me; my nightly rests
Are thin as gause, and thoughts of you,
Gashes ’em wildly through and through.
Oh! Tirzah Ann; oh, Tirzah Ann;