For Tirzah Ann,
I was a meloncholly man.
I’m wastin’ slow, my last year’s vests
Hang loose on me; my nightly rests
Are thin as gauze, and thoughts of you,
Gashes ’em wildly through and through,
Oh Tirzah Ann,
I am a meloncholly man.
My heart is in such a burning state,
I feel it soon must conflagrate;