Oh the Day it was Black
O the day it was black when my love and I waited
And mournfully bellowed the wind
I kissed her in tears as she sobbed broken hearted
That I left her dear Cabin behind
But trod only o' reptiles that all the year bait me
As nought but a thorn on the brere
And pestered by friendships that silently hate me
I ventured my fortune to steer
I left my clay biggin twas close to the wild wood
Where the childern sought wild flowers and played the whole year
Where the robin and wren seemed as pleased as a child would
To hear Childers voices the bushes so near
I left all my childer at play neath the white thorn
The youngest for Acorn cups turned up her eyes
I turned back to reach one all wearied and blight worn
And kissed them all round and then bid her good by
The bright morning shot gold threads through green bushes
And spread in dark places bright patches o' gold
I left all the Songs o the black birds and thrushes
The goats o' the mountain the sheep by the fold
I went while the Ocean lay rolling before me
On the white foaming waves i' the Fleet to sojourn
And hope with her Anchor seemed lolling just o'er me
To bid me good luck and a speedy return.
And mournfully bellowed the wind
I kissed her in tears as she sobbed broken hearted
That I left her dear Cabin behind
But trod only o' reptiles that all the year bait me
As nought but a thorn on the brere
And pestered by friendships that silently hate me
I ventured my fortune to steer
I left my clay biggin twas close to the wild wood
Where the childern sought wild flowers and played the whole year
Where the robin and wren seemed as pleased as a child would
To hear Childers voices the bushes so near
I left all my childer at play neath the white thorn
The youngest for Acorn cups turned up her eyes
I turned back to reach one all wearied and blight worn
And kissed them all round and then bid her good by
The bright morning shot gold threads through green bushes
And spread in dark places bright patches o' gold
I left all the Songs o the black birds and thrushes
The goats o' the mountain the sheep by the fold
I went while the Ocean lay rolling before me
On the white foaming waves i' the Fleet to sojourn
And hope with her Anchor seemed lolling just o'er me
To bid me good luck and a speedy return.
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