American Ballads and Songs

Complete Text & Lyrics - online book

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To make little Mary my bride. I've money in plenty and riches untold,
I never was shipwrecked beside; In coaches we'll roll all covered with gold,
When I make little Mary my bride."
You ask what makes this darkey weep,
Why he, like others, am not gay, What makes the tears roll down his cheek
From early morn till close of day; My story now you all shall hear,
For in my memory fond it dwells; Twill cause you each to shed a tear
O'er the grave of my sweet Kitty Wells.
Where the birds were singing in the morning, And the myrtle and the ivy were in bloom, While the sun o'er the hill-tops was dawning, 'Twas there they laid her in her tomb.
I never shall forget the day
When with sweet Kitty in the dells I kissed her cheek and named the day
That I should marry Kitty Wells. But death came to her cottage door,
And stole away my joy and pride; And when I found she was no more,
I laid my banjo down and cried.