Familiar Songs - Their Authors & Histories

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MOLLY CAREW.		409



Ochone ! and what will I do ? Sure my love is all crost, Like a bud in the frost; And there's no use at all in my going to bed, For 'tis dhrames and not sleep that comes into my head; And 'tis all about you, My sweet Molly Carew, And indeed 'tis a sin and a shame! You're complater than nature, In every feature; The snow can't compare With your forehead so fair; And I rather would see just one blink of your eye Than the purtiest star that shines out of the sky; And by this and by that, For the matter o' that, You're more distant by far than that same! Ochone! weirasthru! Ochone ! I'm alone ! I'm alone in this world without you.	Ochone! but why should I spake Of your forehead and eyes, When your nose it defies PaddyBlake, the schoolmasther, to put it in ihyme; Tho' there's one Burke, he says, that would call it snublime. And then for your cheek, Troth 'twould take him a week Its beauties to tell, as he'd rather; Then your lips, oh, machree ! In their beautiful glow, They a patthern might be For the cherries to grow. 'Twas an apple that tempted our mother, we know. For apples were scarce, I suppose, long ago; But at this time o' day, 'Pon my conscience, I'll say, Such cherries might tempt a man's father! Ochone! weirasthru; Ochone ! I'm alone ! I'm alone in this world without you.