How Cruel Are The Parents
Altered from an old English song. Tune—“John Anderson, my jo.”
How cruel are the parents Who riches only prize, And to the wealthy booby Poor Woman sacrifice! Meanwhile, the hapless Daughter Has but a choice of strife; To shun a tyrant Father’s hate— Become a wretched Wife. The ravening hawk pursuing, The trembling dove thus flies, To shun impelling ruin, Awhile her pinions tries; Till, of escape despairing, No shelter or retreat, She trusts the ruthless Falconer, And drops beneath his feet.
Mark Yonder Pomp Of Costly Fashion
Air—“Deil tak the wars.”
Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion Round the wealthy, titled bride: But when compar’d with real passion, Poor is all that princely pride. Mark yonder, &c. (four lines repeated). What are the showy treasures, What are the noisy pleasures? The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art: The polish’d jewels’ blaze May draw the wond’ring gaze; And courtly grandeur bright The fancy may delight, But never, never can come near the heart. But did you see my dearest Chloris, In simplicity’s array; Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is, Shrinking from the gaze of day, But did you see, &c. O then, the heart alarming, And all resistless charming, In Love’s delightful fetters she chains the willing soul! Ambition would disown The world’s imperial crown, Ev’n Avarice would deny, His worshipp’d deity, And feel thro’ every vein Love’s raptures roll.
’Twas Na Her Bonie Blue E’e
Tune—“Laddie, lie near me.”