Two short years

  

  O once I loved a pretty girl, and dearly love her still;

  I courted her in happiness for two short years or more.

  And when I think of Mary it turns my bosom chill,

  For my little of life's happiness is faded and is o'er.

  O fair was Mary Littlechild, and happy as the bee,

  And sweet was bonny Mary as the song of forest bird;

  And the smile upon her red lips was very dear to me,

  And her tale of love the sweetest that my ear has ever heard

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