Song

1

Theres the wide spreading heath and its crowds of furze bushes
The apple-top't oak, and the crippled thorn tree
And the small bending valley o'erspread with bowed rushes,
That wave to the wind — and the song of the bee
Singing round summer wild flowers
In all sunny mild hours
In freedom and glee
While the low wharping camp among the green bushes
Forms a warm cozey nest for Maria and me

2

The beautiful gipsey with brown swarthy cheek
And a bosom of snow melting under her gown
If you travelled the country round for a week
You'd find none so handsome in village or town
As lovely Maria
And my eyes never tire
Beneath the green tree
To gaze on her arms and her sunny tanned cheek
While we sit in the camp sweet Maria and me

3

The wheatear it sits on the thorn in the breakan
The furze linet sits on the apple top't oak
And the fire-tail weets there as its nest had been taken
And the cuckoo sings plain as if somebody spoke
While lovely Maria
By the crackling fire
Unlinks her dark hair
That falls o'er her shoulders a thunder cloud making
And covers her neck so lovely and fair
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