_Set to Music by H. Lambeth._
Young Love once woo'd a budding Rose,
(_Sing hey down ho, the bleak winds blow._)
With fond delight his bosom glows,
(_How softly fall the flakes of snow._)
Love watch'd the flower whose ruby tips
Peep'd coyly forth, like pouting lips,
Then nearer to the Rose he trips;
(_The stately oak will soon lie low._)
Young Love was fond and bashful too,
(_Sing hey down ho, the sea rolls aye._)
He sigh'd and knew not what to do;
(_Life like an arrow flies away._)
Then whispering low his cherish'd wish,
The Rose-bud trembled on her bush,
While redder grew her maiden blush;
(_Ruddy eve forecasts the brightest day._)
To pull this Rose young Love then tried;
(_'Tis sweet to hear the skylark sing._)
Her blush of hope she strove to hide;
(_Joy soars aloft on painted wing._)
Love press'd the Rose-bud to his breast,
He felt the thorn, but well he guess'd
Such "Nay" meant "Yea," 'twas fond Love's jest;
(_'Tis honey soothes the bee's fell sting._)