Collin AND Betsy

Sweet Betsy now employs my pen, The fairest nymph that trips the green: Whose innocence young Collin stole, then left her on the plain to strole: In tears to mourn her cruel fate, And seek relief a day too late.

To whom the injur'd fair with sighs, Impatient turn'd her wishful eyes; "Why will you break my tender heart? Why from your sacred vows depart? Oh! when will Collin bend his ear, And turn to bless his Betsy dear?

When mountains bend their heads full low; When vales surpass the mountains brow; When fish no more shall cleave the sea, And women's tongues shall cease to play: Nor eagles lash the liquid air, Then I'll return to thee my dear.

When fruit preceeds the blooming spring: When birds in antumn learn to sing; When witless young refuse their dams, And savage tygers mate with lambs; Or radient sol shall disappear, Then I'll return to thoe, my dear.

When tombs resound with masquerades, Vulcanoes teem with blooming maids: When women keep secure their trust, And harmony shall give disgust; Or cannons please the ladies ear, Then I'll return to thee, my dear.