Sarah Wilson

Its Sarah Wilson is my name,
I?ve brought myself to grief and shame,
By loving one that never loved me,
So now my sorrows I plainly see,

Its true I was his servant maid.
When first by him I was betray?d,
With a kiss like Judas he did me betray
But soon his love all shed away,

Hark ! alas all my joys are shed,
To morrow my love is to be wed.
To a farmer?s daughter people did say,
And that shall be my funeral day,

Upon my parents I have brought disgrace,
I hope no one will throw it in their face,
For if they do they are to b?ame,
I hope that I might bear this blame

Six pretty maidens let me have
To bear me to my silent grave,
All cloathed in white & comely show
To bear me to the shades below,

Let this be wrote on my tomb,
Here life a fair maid in her bloom
Life a Rose in June I was cut down,
Tho? once a maid as well as you,

In this dark tomb the bed of clay
Here must I lie till the judgment day
At that dreadful hour he will sure y rue
And wish to me he had been true