Love Songs, &c, SONG

O'er barren hills and flow'ry dales O'er seas and distant shores, With merry song and jocund tales, I've pass'd some pleasant hours; Tho' wand'ring thus I ne'er could find A girl like blithsome Sally, Who picks, and culls, and cries aloud, Sweet lilies of the valley.

From whistling o'er the hollow'd turf, From nesting of each tree, I chose a Soldier's life to wed, So social, gay and free: Yet though the lasses love as well, And often try to rally, None pleases me like her who cries, Sweet lilies of the valley.

I'm now return'd, of late discharg'd, To use my native toil, From fighting in my country's cause, To plough my country's soil: I care not which, with either pleas'd, So I possess my Sally; That little merry nymph that cries, Sweet lilies of the valley.