The Banks of the Schuylkill.
On the banks of the Schuylkill so pleasant and gay,
There, blest with my true love, I spend the short day;
Where the sun shed his rays through the mulberry tree,
And the streams formed a mirror for my true love and me.
On the spot of clover we sat ourselves down,
Not envying the greatest of monarchs that's crowned;
My name in the sand with his fingers he drew,
And he swore by the stream he would ever prove true.
To which I beheld the gay pride of my fair,
I gazed on his face while he played with my hair;
He need not have told me his love with a sigh,
For the Schuylkill secures my dear fellow to me.
Of times he told me the stories of love,
He would sing me a song my affections to move.
My lips were solicited, my hand gently pressed,
On the banks of the Schuylkill Jesse was blessed.
"Whenever we leave this enchanting retreat,"
With blushes, says he, " when next shall me meet?"
"Next Sunday, " he says, "if the weather proves clear,
On the banks of the Schuylkill, I'll meet you my dear,"
Now all these innocent pleasures are o'er,
The murmuring river can please me no more
Since the banks of the Schuylkill have lost all their charms,
And the soldiers have torn my dear boy from my arms.
But should ever I clasp him again to my heart,
No more shall my true love and I ever part;
No more shall the wars take my true love away.
And the banks of the Schuylkill shall ever be gay.