Collected by Max Hunter (H-11)
For Mary C. Parler
Sung by Mrs. Laura McDonald
Springdale, Arkansas
Transcribed by Frances Majors July, 1958
Reel 253-54, Item 20
The Charming Beauty Bright
It's wrought of me the time draws near
When you and I must part;
It's little did you think or know
The grief for my poor heart.
Why do I suffer for your sake?
'Tis you I love so dear;
I wish that you was going with me,
I also could stay here.
Your cheeks are of the rosy red,
Your lips like ruby pearls.
There is no fault within my love,
That model I conceal.
Your company, my dearest dear,
So charming sweet to me.
It makes me think when you're away
That every day makes three.
That every day makes three, my dear,
That every hour makes ten;
It makes me weep when I should sleep,
And say I've lost a friend.
I wish my breast was made of glass,
Wherein you might behold
Your name is written on my heart
With letters lined in gold.
When I'm for miles and miles away
On some poor distant shore,
Among the rocks and mountains, where
Wild beasts may howl and roar.
The eagle and the blackbird whirl,
And little sparrow, too;
What would I give to this old world
If I was but married to you?
