THE CHARMS of MELODY, SONG 103

As down on Banna's banks I stray'd, one ev'ning May, The little birds, in blithest notes, made vocal ev'ry spray: They sung their little tales of love, they sung them o'er and o'er, Ah! gramachree, ma cholleenouge, ma Molly asthore!

The daisy py'd, and all the sweets the dawn of nature yields, The primrose pale, and vi'let blue, lay scatter'd o'er the fields; Such fragrance in the bosom lies of her whom I adore Ah! gramachree, &c.

I laid me down upon a bank, bewailing my sad fate, That doom'd me thus the slave of love, and cruel Molly's hate; How can she break the honest heart that wears her in its core? Ah! gramachree, &c.

You said you lov'd me, Molly dear: ah! why did I believe? Yet who could think such tender words were meant but to deceive? That love was all I ask'd on earth, may, heav'n could give no more. Ah! gramachree, &c.

O! had I all the flocks that graze on yonder yellow hill, Or low'd for me the nun'rous herds that yon green pasture fill; With her I love, I'd gladly share my kine and fleecy store, Ah! gramachree, &c.

Two turtle-doves, above my head, fat courting on a bough, I envy'd them their happiness, to see them bill and coo; Such fondness once for me was shew'd, but now, alas! 'tis o'er. Ah! gramachree, &c.

Then fare thee well, my Molly dear, thy loss I e'er shall moan; While life remains in Strephon's heart, 'twill beat for thee alone; Tho' thou art false, may heav'n no thee its choicest blessings pour. Ah! gramachree, ma cholleenouge, ma Molly asthore