The downfall of Paris, and Bonaparte dethron'd/The Lovely Soldier

THE LOVELY SOLDIER.

Abroad as I was walking,
down by a ſhady grove,
Where I heard a Soldier talking
of pretty tales of love:

The tears did trickle down
his lovely roſy cheek,
Which fill’d my heart with fatal love,
altho’ I dare not ſpeak.

The Soldier call’d her jewel,
and ſwore he never would
Be unkind and cruel
to the girly he dearly lov’d.

The tears did trickle down
her lovely roſy cheek;
She was ſo fill’d with love,
a word ſhe ſcarce could ſpeak.

She ſaid, My dear, much rather
I would go along with you,
And leave my aged father,
and loving mother too:
For theſe can be no pleaſure,
neither for you or me,
But ſorrow without meaſure,
when you are gone to ſea.

Farewell, my dearell Nancy,
my joy and heart’s delight,
For I am going to the Indies,
my country’s foes to fight.

F I N I S
o ——— o
Falkirk, Printed by T. Johnston,
1814