Rustic Damsel, The

THE RUSTIC DAMSEL.
Sung by Harry Liston in his Popular entertainment "Merry Moments"
Words by T Dodworth

A long time ago, I remember it well,
In a beautiful village a damsel did dwell;
Alone with her parents she lived all serene,
Her age it was red, and her hair was nineteen.

Spoken: Yes, she was a generous girl, she supported plain needlework by taking in her poor old father. She was called —

A sweet rustic damsel with cheeks like the rose,
A roman shaped eye, and a cast in her nose.

Now she had a lovier who close by did dwell,
A bandy backed rustic and hump legged as well;
Said he, "Fly with me by the light of yon star,
For you are the eye of my apple you are."

Spoken: He was poor, but he was honest, and many an honest coat heats beneath a ragged heart, and he loved -

But this dutiful maiden said gently, "Be wise;
My father would scratch out my nails with his eyes.
If you love me you will not bring me to disgrace,"
Sobbed the maid as she buried her hands in her face.

Spoken: It was an affecting scene and the light of a cloud suddenly bursting from behind the moon fully revealed the attitude of - 
 
So as she refused him he knocked down the maid,
Then silently opened the knife of his blade
He next cut the throat of this damsel so fair,
Then dragged her along by the head of her hair.

Spoken: It was all her own hair: she never descended to false chignons but she was dead now. Yes her throat was cut from mouth to mouth and the water rushed forth from the wound like blood

Just then her old father came up if appears
And look'd on this sad sight with eyes in his tears.
He knell by her side and her sweet face he kiss'd;
Then rushed with his nose at the murderer's fist:

Spoken: Poor old man! He had put his head on his hat and come out in search or his absent daughter and had just stopped to strike his pipe against a match, when he saw the dead body of - 
 
With the knife the old man he an end to him put;
Then spurned with his body the murderer's foot;
To commit suicide then his way he did wend,
So that is the tale of a very sad end.

Spoken: Poor old man! His was the fate to be lamented, cut off in the flower of his youth. In the bloom of womanhood she died. Her memory was short but her life is still revered by those who knew .