Song - In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer

Tune—"Go from my window, Love, do."

The sun he is sunk in the west,

All creatures retired to rest,

While here I sit, all sore beset,

With sorrow, grief, and woe:

And it's O,fickle Fortune,O!

The prosperous man is asleep,

Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep;

But Misery and I must watch

The surly tempest blow:

An d it's O,fickle Fortune,O!

There lies the dear partner of my breast;

Her cares for a moment at rest:

Must I see thee, my youthful pride,

Thus brought so very low!

And it's O,fickle Fortune,O!

There lie my sweet babies in her arms;

No anxious fear their little hearts alarms;

But for their sake my heart does ache,

With many a bitter throe:

And it's O,fickle Fortune,O!

I once was by Fortune carest:

I once could relieve the distrest:

Now life's poor support, hardly earn'd

My fate will scarce bestow:

And it's O,fickle Fortune,O!

No comfort, no comfort I have!

How welcome to me were the grave!

But then my wife and children dear—

O, wither would they go!

And it's O,fickle Fortune,O!

O whither, O whither shall I turn!

All friendless, forsaken, forlorn!

For, in this world, Rest or Peace

I never more shall know!

And it's O,fickle Fortune,O!