Sir Samuel Ferguson

Cean Dubh Deelish

PUT your head, darling, darling, darling,
   Your darling black head my heart above;
O mouth of honey, with thyme for fragrance,
   Who, with heart in breast, could deny you love?

O many and many a young girl for me is pining,
   Letting her locks of gold to the cold wind free,
For me, the foremost of our gay young fellows;
   But I'd leave a hundred, pure love, for thee!

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