Song

1

Come weal come woe I care not
Nor fear it not a fly
Though others ills I bear not
They often make me sigh
I'm poor, but not in natures choice
Her laws I always own
I hear her as a mothers voice
And never feel alone
Come weal come woe I never care
The ills of life I gladly bear.

2

The spring has clad the land in green
The daisey opens on the lea
A golden stud in silver sheen
And spreads her choicest gifts for me
I scent the violets breath perfume
Beneath the white-thorn leafing shade
I see and bend me o'er their bloom
And think upon the lovely maid
Come weal come woe I never care
The ills o'life I gladly bear.

3

The knotting bloom is on the thorn
The little bird is on its nest
And I've been happy all the morn
Leaning on my true loves breast
A breast as white as any curd
And soft as any pillows are
With voice o' music like the bird
And fair, o' she was more than fair
Come weal come woe I never care
The ills of life I gladly bear.
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