Page:Five songs (5).pdf/3

She lifted up her hand from the pillow where ſhe lay,
She ſaid young doctor Stafford, love, uſe me tenderly,
He handed her a drink, and not one word did ſay,
Tears came rolling down her cheeks, on the pillow where ſhe lay.

She lifted up her head, with a heavy ſigh ſaid ſhe,
I pray you doctor Stafford, love uſe me tenderly,
For I am ſick and very bad and in a deep decay;
He ſaid my dear if you he ſpar’d, it’s married we will be.

He ſlipped off his ſhoes, and ſoftly wend behind,
And for three weeks and better, he did her cloſe attend,
The laſt words that ſhe ſpoke, her voice was ſlow but clear;
All goodneſs be my darling’s guide, he’s the boy that I lov’d dear.

I am a ſporting young man, ſcarce 18 years of age,
And many a pretty girl did with me engage;
Many a pretty girl has fallen in love with me;
But the weaver’s daughter lov’d me beſt, ſhe died for love of me.

One evening as I walked down by her father’s land,
A waft came o’er my ſhoulder, which put me to a ſtand,
The neighbours they do ſay that her ſpirit it haunts me.
But I am ſure they’re wrong, ſhe left no blame on me,