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             The Girl

                    I LEFT

        BEHIND ME.

I'M lonesome since I cross'd the hills,
And o'er the moor that pests me,
With heavy thoughts my heart doth fill,
Since I parted from my Betsy.
In search of some one fine and gay,
But none could ever bind me,
And I think on the hours I pass'd away,
With the girl I left behind me.

The hours I do remember well,
When recollections move me,
A pain within my breast I feel,
Since first she own'd to lov'd me.
But now I'm going to Brighton camp,
I pray kind heaven now guide me,
And send me safely home again,
To the girl I left behind me.

Her golden hair, her ringlets fair,
Her eyes like diamonds shining—
Her slender waist, and carriage chaste,
Left me, poor soul, a pining,
But let the night be e'er so dark,
Or e'er so wet and windy,
I will return safe back again,
To the girl I left behind me.

But when I'm standing on parade,
Either asleep or walking,
I long to see my love again,
For her my heart is breaking.
When I think of the vows of love,
The tears do fall and blind me,
When I think upon the form and grase,
Of the girl I left behind me.

The falling waters I do see,
The dove becomes
Such heavy thoughts run in my mind,
The hour I meant to change her.
Ye powers above, protect, I pray,
The cautious fair that binds me,
And send me safely home again,
To the girl I left behind me.

             The Young

              WIDOW.

                         —Shops and Hawkers supplied.

Now all single gents I address myself to,
And hope they will all pay attention ;
In the first place allow me to ask how you do,
And weigh well in your mind what I mention

My husband has now been dead six months at least
And seriously now I consider,
'Tis folly to mourn for one that's deceased,
And I can't bear to be a YOUNG WIDOW.

Now young men look sharp, there's no time to lose,
Half-mourning I put on to-morrow ;
Look at me—just hear me—you cannot refuse,
I've only six months left for sorrow.

What an odious custom to wait for a year,
For one's feelings they do not consider,
To lose so much time, is quite horrid, oh dear !
So long I'll not be a young widow.

They say 'tis not decent to marry so soon,
And to dress in no color but sable ;
I'll not be convinced : they may talk to the mean ;
Me mourn for a year : I'm not able

Besides, my good man, who'se now dead and gone,
For my comforts would always consider ;
I'm sure he don't wish me to live so forlorn,
So now then who'll have a young widow.

But I think it quite fair e'er the bargain I seal,
To state, I require due submission ;
The husband I choose must servo me with zeal,
And then there's another condition :—

He must rise—light the fire—and breakfast prepare
Boil the eggs—make the toast—and consider
That I must be master—or else I declare
I would rather remain a young widow.
He must not contradict if I say cold is hot ;
Black must be white at my plessure ;
Or else, by chance at your head you may have too
tea-pot,—
Then young

Such sweetness of temper you'll meet
Of a young widow's troubles—come rid her ;
Now don't all speak at once : only one at a time,
You must wait till again I'm a widow.