Mary of Crofton
Ah! a lovely jewel was Mary of Crofton,
And now she is cold in the clay
We think of the heart-cheering image as often
As we pass down the old waggon way.
Her air was a magical air, and the very
Stone heart of the stoic entranced;
While her wee, wee feet beat a measure as merry
As ever by damsel was danced.
Her accents enchanted; her lay — but the silly
Bit linnet to vie it would seek;
And the rose in her hair was a daffadowndilly
Compared with the rose on her cheek.
Sue, Bessy, and Kitty still ornament Crofton,
And rich are the charms they display;
But we miss the sweet image of Mary as often
As we pass down the old waggon way.
And now she is cold in the clay
We think of the heart-cheering image as often
As we pass down the old waggon way.
Her air was a magical air, and the very
Stone heart of the stoic entranced;
While her wee, wee feet beat a measure as merry
As ever by damsel was danced.
Her accents enchanted; her lay — but the silly
Bit linnet to vie it would seek;
And the rose in her hair was a daffadowndilly
Compared with the rose on her cheek.
Sue, Bessy, and Kitty still ornament Crofton,
And rich are the charms they display;
But we miss the sweet image of Mary as often
As we pass down the old waggon way.
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