Love took his bow and arrow And slew his mother's sparrow. I know not how it chanced, Perhaps his arrow glanced. Away the wag him hied. Lord! how am I apayed? My bird is dead and now my boy is strayed.
Love took his bow and arrow And slew his mother's sparrow. I know not how it chanced, Perhaps his arrow glanced. Away the wag him hied. Lord! how am I apayed? My bird is dead and now my boy is strayed.