SONG. IV. The Lass of Lucern Lake

Say will you leave your lowland haunts, And range the hills with me; This arm shall render light your wants, And guard your Liberty. The mountain doe that slits so fleet, At earliest morn I'll take; And make the rich repast for thee, Dear Lass of Lucern Lake.

The choicest fruits that grace the groves, The muscadine and pear, Just when the bee for honey roves, Will I at morn be there. I'll pluck impearl'd with evening dew The berry from the brake, And spread the bow'r with sweets for you, Dear Lass of Lucern Lake.

From nipping blasts, from frost and hall Thy beauty I'll defend, And still amidst the winter's gale I'll live thy love and friend. Turn then fair maid and fly with me, Thy lowland haunts forsake, And all my cares shall be for thee, Dear Lass of Lucern Lake.