The Blackberry Blossom

When I was but a wee shy boy,
My moth er`s pride, my fa ther`s
joy, My hands and mouth had full em ploy,
When black ber ries grew ripe.
And oft my mam my she would squeeze
The thorns from out my arms and
knees; And my good dad, to give me ease,
Put by his fav `rite pipe
0 And e ven since I´ve be come a man
And dressed on quite a dif ferent
plan, I`ve still gone car ry ing the can,
When black ber ries grew sweet.
Yes tramp ling through the bram ble brakes,
I`d court the keen est pains and
aches For two or three fair col leens` sakes
Whose names I`ll not re peat.

Till No rah of the am ber hair
Who`d been my part ner here and
there, A round, a bout and ev `ry where
When black ber ries came in;
When I just tried with too much haste
The rich er rar er fruit to
taste That on her lips was goin` to waste,
She toss es up her chin,
0 And march es by me night and morn,
Her grey eyes on ly glan cing
scorn, Re gard less of the bi ter thorn.
That in my heart she`s rooting
Yet some how, some thing in my mind
Keeps mur m`ring when she`s most unkind:” Have patience!
She`ll make friends,
You`ll find Ere black berries fin ish fruiting.”

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