The Beggar Girl.

The Beggar Girl.
329.6

Over the mountain and over the moor
Barefoot and cold I wander forlorn.
My father is dead and my mother Is poor.
She weeps o’er the days that will never return.

Chorus:
Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity,
Keen blows the wind and the night coming on.
Give me some food, for my mother, in charity:
Give me some food, and then I’ll be gone

Call me not lazy, a beggar, and bold.

Fain would I learn how to knit and to sew.
I have two brothers, and when they are old enough.
They shall work hard for the gifts you bestow.

Chorus