Adam Austin
¶\_I726(?)-1774\
For Lack of Gold
¶FOR lack of gold she's left me, O,And of all that's dear bereft me, O;She me forsook for Athole's duke,And to endless woe she has left me, O.A star and garter have more art[533]Than youth, a true and faithful heart;For empty titles we must part,And for glittering show she's left me, O.
¶No cruel fair shall ever moveMy injured heart again to love;Through distant climates I must rove,Since Jeanie she has left me, O.Ye powers above, I to your careGive up my faithless, lovely fair;Your choicest blessings be her share,Though she's for ever left me, O!