Читать книгу Old Ballads - Various - Страница 9

She's all my fancy painted her,

  She's lovely, she's divine;

But her heart it is another's,

  She never can be mine;

Yet lov'd I as man never lov'd,

  A love without decay,

Oh! my heart, my heart is breaking

  For the love of Alice Gray!

Her dark brown hair is braided

  O'er a brow of spotless white;

Her soft blue eye now languishes,

  Now flashes with delight;

Her hair is braided not for me,

  The eye is turned away;

Yet, my heart, my heart is breaking

  For the love of Alice Gray.

I've sunk beneath the summer's sun,

  And trembled in the blast;

But my pilgrimage is nearly done,

  The weary conflict's past:

And when the green sod wraps my grave,

  May pity haply say,

Oh! his heart, his heart is broken

  For the love of Alice Gray.