6
The dearest maid's in yon town,
His setting beam e'er shone upon;
If angry fate is sworn my foe,
And suffering I am doom'd to bear,
I’d careless quit ought else below,
But spare, oh! spare my Jeanie dear.
For while life’s dearest blood runs warm,
My thoughts frae her shall ne'er depart,
For as she's lovely in her form.
She has the truest, kindest heart.
THE PITCHER.
It's not yet day, it's not yet day,
then why should we leave good liquor,
'Till the sun beams around us play,
we'll sit and take another pitcher,
The silver moon she shines so bright,
she shines most bright—I swear by Nature,
That if my minute-glass goes right,
we've time to drink the other pitcher.
It's not yet day, &c.
They tell me if I'd work all day,
and sleep by night, I’d grow the richer,
But what is all this world’s delight,
compar'd with mirth, my friend & pitcher
It’s not yet day it's not yet day,
then why should we leave good liquor,
'Till the sun beams around us play,
we’ll sit and take the other pitcher.
I'ts not yet day, &c.
