Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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CUPID'S CONQUEST. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
CUPID'S CONQUEST.
Why brightens every brow
On the banks of Calder now?
Why flows the song of love from every tongue, tongue, tongue?
Sweet Cupid soon replies,
'Tis my darts, shot from the eyes
Of a girl that is charming and young, young, young.
On the banks of Calder now?
Why flows the song of love from every tongue, tongue, tongue?
Sweet Cupid soon replies,
'Tis my darts, shot from the eyes
Of a girl that is charming and young, young, young.
Young Johnnie thought to prove
He'd defy the powers of love
In the verdant palm of victory he'd won, won, won;
Till through the glen he stray'd
With that soul-enchanting maid,
For whom he now cries out, I'm undone, done, done.
He'd defy the powers of love
In the verdant palm of victory he'd won, won, won;
Till through the glen he stray'd
With that soul-enchanting maid,
For whom he now cries out, I'm undone, done, done.
She's like the lily fair
That perfumes the morning air,
And the soul of music hangs on her tongue, tongue, tongue.
Her wit and repartee
Have completely captured me,
For by Cupid's sharpest dart I'm stung, stung, stung.
That perfumes the morning air,
And the soul of music hangs on her tongue, tongue, tongue.
Her wit and repartee
Have completely captured me,
For by Cupid's sharpest dart I'm stung, stung, stung.
So killing are her smiles,
And so winning all her wiles,
That his heart she has quite overcome, come, come.
His fancy night and day
O'er love's flowery fields doth stray,
And still he exclaims, I'm undone, done, done.
And so winning all her wiles,
That his heart she has quite overcome, come, come.
His fancy night and day
O'er love's flowery fields doth stray,
And still he exclaims, I'm undone, done, done.
But when poor Johnnie knew
That a lover kind and true
From the bonnie banks of Cart he had come, come, come,
He cried out, in despair,
Blackest grief is now my share,
For by Cupid's timely dart I'm undone, done, done.
That a lover kind and true
From the bonnie banks of Cart he had come, come, come,
He cried out, in despair,
Blackest grief is now my share,
For by Cupid's timely dart I'm undone, done, done.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |