The oldest cross it's a dusty brown,

But the winter winds didn't shake it down;

[19]

The newest cross keeps the colour bright;

When the straw was reaping my heart was light.

The reapers rose with the blink of morn,

And gaily stook'd up the yellow corn;

To call them home to the field I'd run,

Through the blowing breeze and the summer sun.

When the straw was weaving my heart was glad,

For neither sin nor shame I had,

In the barn where oat-chaff was flying round,

And the thumping flails made a pleasant sound.

Now summer or winter to me it's one;

But oh! for a day like the time that's gone.

I'd little care was it storm or shine,

If I had but peace in this heart of mine.

Oh! light and false is a young man's kiss,

And a foolish girl gives her soul for this.

Oh! light and short is the young man's blame,

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