Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er;
She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore;
'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd,
She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West.
3
I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain,
But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain.
She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest,
I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West.
4
Alas! where'er I wander, however much I will
The thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still;
For ever I am downcast, for ever am oppress'd,
An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West.
[No 59 THE SIMPLE PLOUGHBOY]
C.J.S.
