I AM WAITING FOR THEE.

The summer is coming,
The flowers are blooming,
The birds are all mated on every tree;
No longer I’ll tarry,
If you will not marry;
I’m tired of waiting, dear Harry, for thee.

There’s Norah, my cousin,
Has lovers a dozen,
All willing to wed her – ‘tis cruel for me
To have so much wooing,
Like birds ever cooing –
Oh, Harry, dear Harry, I’m waiting for thee.

You promised last Sunday
You would on the Monday
Go and publish the banns, to set my mind free;
Next the ring you would buy,
And the marriage knot tie –
I think you’re forgetting I’m, waiting for thee.

One week more I’ll give thee,
To know it thou’lt have me,
Decide but the question, then we shall agree;
I know when I’m married,
I’ll not wish I’d tarried,
For I shall be happy, dear Harry, with thee.

H. K