Arming down along the stream, Along the sparkling water,And past the pool where lilies gleam, There comes the squatter's daughter.
Her eyes are kind; her lips are warm; And like a flower her face is;The habit shows her bonny form As graceful as a Grace's.
O I'll be mad of love, I know; My head she'll surely addle;O Cupid, Cupid; get your bow; And shoot her from the saddle!
For, like a bird on breezes waft, She quickly, quickly passes;O Cupid, Cupid, draw your shaft; And bring her to the grasses!
O she is worthy game for you; And there is none to match her.So, Cupid, send your arrow true; And I'll be there to catch her!