Oh the Maiden was Coy
Oh chilly was the afternoon & slowly mov'd the rack
Before the Easter time came in
When I met a bonny maiden all dress'd in sable black
And I look'd upon her lovely face and tried her heart to win
Oh I looked into her eyes and she never turn'd away
But she gazed on me again in pleasantness and joy
Her looks fastened on my soul and ever since that day
I've never been myself for the maiden she was coy.
2
Right chilly was the afternoon & slowly mov'd the rack
When I overtook a maiden who stood by the way
Her hands and face were fair & she was dress'd in black
I could have lov'd and kiss'd her up to this very day
I looked and nothing said for the maiden she was coy
So silently we parted as I pass'd her on that day
She left in my bosom the joy of every joy
And her image from my mind can never pass away.
3
No the images of love are the pulses of the heart
And the feelings o' its tenderness can never know decay
While the gushes o' the bosom in each purple vein do start
And warm us with loves pictures that never fade away
Oh chilly was the afternoon & slowly mov'd the rack
And bonny was the maid that I look'd on alone
Oh her face it was fair and her dress it was black
I intend when next I meet her to claim her as my own.
Before the Easter time came in
When I met a bonny maiden all dress'd in sable black
And I look'd upon her lovely face and tried her heart to win
Oh I looked into her eyes and she never turn'd away
But she gazed on me again in pleasantness and joy
Her looks fastened on my soul and ever since that day
I've never been myself for the maiden she was coy.
2
Right chilly was the afternoon & slowly mov'd the rack
When I overtook a maiden who stood by the way
Her hands and face were fair & she was dress'd in black
I could have lov'd and kiss'd her up to this very day
I looked and nothing said for the maiden she was coy
So silently we parted as I pass'd her on that day
She left in my bosom the joy of every joy
And her image from my mind can never pass away.
3
No the images of love are the pulses of the heart
And the feelings o' its tenderness can never know decay
While the gushes o' the bosom in each purple vein do start
And warm us with loves pictures that never fade away
Oh chilly was the afternoon & slowly mov'd the rack
And bonny was the maid that I look'd on alone
Oh her face it was fair and her dress it was black
I intend when next I meet her to claim her as my own.
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