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Songs and Lyrics

By Joseph Skipsey. Collected and Revised

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Little Anna.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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77

Little Anna.

Little Anna, young and fair,
How with heart a-dancing,
I descry her image rare,
O'er the footway glancing;
Ah, those locks of dusky hue!
Ah, those eyes that twinkle!
Now I laugh their sheen to view,
Now my tears down trinkle.
When I see her bonny blink,
I'm upraised to heaven;
When upon her ways I think,
From myself I'm driven;
Not a bit of use am I,
Save, with arms a-kimbo,
Thus to sit and thus to sigh,
A very wretch in limbo.
Up, from tossings, to and fro,
Bite or sup unheeded,
Up from bed to work I go,
Long before 'tis needed;
But a-pit, love a-smit,
Do all I can do, now,
Still a-wry the pick will fly,
And no coal will hew, now.

78

Can it be her voice I hear,
When my pick is swinging?
When her tongue attracts the ear,
Golden bells are ringing;
Do I dream? or is't her e'en
Yonder nook adorning?
Blacker than the coal, their sheen
Mocks the coal a-burning!
Ah, those locks, and ah, those eyes,
Ah, the rest they've broken!
But in vain their victim tries,
Love can ne'er be spoken;
Man may fathom ocean—say
The reason of its motion;
But love's magic never! nay,
'Tis deeper than the ocean.