The American Songster, Song

My shepherd is gone far away o'er the plain, While in sorrow behind him I'm forc'd to remain; Tho' blue-bells and vi'lets the hedges adorn, Tho' trees are in blossom, and sweet blows the thorn; No pleasure they give me, in vain they look gay, There's nothing can please now my Jockey's away; Forlorn I sit singing, and this is my strain, Haste, haste, to my arms, my dear Jockey, again. Haste, haste, &c.

When lads and their lasses are on the green met, They dance and they sing, they laugh and they chat, Contented and happy, with hearts full of glee, I can't without envy their merriment see; Those pleasures offend me, my shepherd's not there, No pleasure I relish that Jockey don't share; It makes me to sigh, I from tears scarce refrain, I wish my dear Jockey return'd back again.

But hope shall sustain me, nor will I despair, He promis'd he would in a fortnight be here; On fond expectation my wishes I'll feast, For love my dear Jockey to Jenny will haste: Then farewell each care, adieu each vain sigh! Who'll then be so blest, or so happy as I? I'll sing on the meadows, and alter my strain, When Jockey returns to my arms back again.