Oh, I must be in Darley Dale before the sun dips low, But can't tell, for the life of me, the way which I should go; For if I take the one road there's Anabel to see, And if I take the other road there is sweet Margery. Within the eyes of Anabel there is a laughing lure, The starry eyes of Margery are like the Cynosure; Though Anabel's are larkspur-blue and Margery's are brown, If I should think to drown myself, in both I'd like to drown. The lovely lips of Anabel are like a crimson pink, While Margery's seem a tulip cup that tempts a man to drink; The hair of one has morning glints, the other's twilight hues; The voice of each is melody. Pray, how am I to choose? If Anabel starts marketing, the friendly grasses stir; If Margery on an errand trips, the rushes bow to her; Of both of them keep gossiping the leaves of every tree; How can I tell if Anabel or Margery's for me? Oh, I must be in Darley Dale before the sun dips low, But can't say, for the heart of me, the way which I should go! |