To comfort, enliven, and bless,
She is just the right sort for a wife,
My girl with the calico dress.
Darling Jenny Bell.
The days they are come, when this poor darkey must weep,
For the one that he used to love best,
Who now lies asleep in the dark grave so deep
And the sweet flowers bloom o’er her breast.
She’s gone to that land where the bright spirits go,