The day was spent, the moon shone bright,|
The village clock struck eight;
Young Mary hastened, with delight,
Unto the garden-gate:
But what was there that made her sad?
The gate was there, but not the lad,
Which made poor Mary say and sigh,
Was ever poor girl so sad as I?
2. She traced the garden here and there,
3. She traced the garden here and there,|
The village clock struck ten;
Young William caught her in his arms,
No more to part again:
For he'd been to buy the ring that day,
And O! he had been a long, long way;
Then, how could Mary cruel prove,
To banish the lad she so dearly did love?
4. Up with the morning sun they rose,
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