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The Song Book |
161 |
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To me she ever will be dear,
Though she's for ever left her Johnie. Roy's Wife &c.
Words by Mrs. Grant of Carron. |
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CXXVI
O WAS I TO BLAME TO LOVE HIM |
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My heart it may break with sorrow, My heart it may break with sorrow,
'Tis lost for his sake,
No complaint will I make, My heart it may break with sorrow.
O saw you yon tree's sweet blossom, O saw you yon tree's sweet blossom,
Like me to your sight,
It fades with the blight, Yet blame not the love or blossom.
O pride of my heart, I love thee,
0 pride of my heart, I love thee ; The zephyr,—the sky
May alter—not I—
1 was not to blame to love thee.
Words by William Smyth. Tune When she came ben she babbit-M |
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