Song68
Mary once had lovers two—
Whining—pining—sighing:
“Ah!” cries one, “what shall I do?
Mary dear, I’m dying!”
T’ other vow’d him just the same—
Dead in grief’s vagary;
But sighs could never raise a flame
In the heart of Mary.
A youth there came, all blithe and gay—
Merry—laughing—singing—
Sporting—courting, all the day—
And set the bells a-ringing.
Soon he tripp’d it off to church,
Lightly, gay, and airy;
Leaving t’ others in the lurch,
Sighing—after Mary.