THINKING OF ONE SHE LOVES.
Copyright, MDCCCXCIV, by Henry J. Wehman.
Words by Tom Conley. Music by Felix McGlennon.
In a cosy little parlor sits a maiden, young and fair,
And her eyes with love are shining, brightly golden Is her hair.
Knitting deftly with her needle, as the gloaming's drawing nigh.
But of whom Is she now thinking, as she breathes a tender sight
She is thinking of her laddie; far away from her is he,
For he Is a gallant sailor, and his home Is on the sea.
Day by day the maiden watches, from her post she'll never stir,
For she knows the time la coming when he'll soon return to her.
Thinking of one she loves, dearer to her than life;
How her heart yearns; when he returns, she'll be his own dear wife.
Praying that he'll be safe, safe on the angry foam,
Praying each night to Heav'n above, to send him back safely home.
Well, the story Is but simple, for, when little children, they
Always played and romped together, in the sweetly, new mown hay.
Years' rolled on, they still were faithful, love's sweet passion on them grew,
And when he sailed on the ocean, how he vow'd that he'd be true.
And the maiden still proved constant, as the weary years rolled by;
Now she'e waiting for her lover, for the time is drawing nigh.
Hark! the clock is softly ticking, and she never hesitates,
But she sits there In the parlor, and she watches, hopes, And waits. - Chorus.
But one day, in early spring-time, there's a dear, familiar voice,
And a step she hears approaching makes her eager heart rejoice;
Then a sailor, brown and sunburnt, clasps his darling in his arms;
On her lips he rains sweet kisses, and he soothes her fond alarms.
They were married at the little village church upon the green,
It was but a simple wedding, but a happy, peaceful scene.
Now the maiden is contented, swiftly by the time does flit,
But she always will remember when alone she used to en.-Chorus.