Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf/104

v.
He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white,
And I ran by him without speaking like a flash o' light
They call me cruelhearted, but I care not what they say,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

vi.
They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be:
They say his heart is breaking, mother—what is that to me?
There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer day,
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

vii.
Little Effie shall go with me tomorrow to the green,
And you'll be there too, mother, to see me made the Queen;