Thompson, Priscilla Jane
ALBERTA, lovely little dame,
Of thee I'm thinking ever;
Oh, little witch, with eyes of sloe!
Thou haunts me, wheresoe'er I go;
And grants a respite, never;
A victim of thy spell I be,
A bondman, robbed of liberty;
Show quarter now, and pity me,
O, fair Alberta.
Thy solemn eyes, are hid from sight
By dark-fringed, dusky, curtains;
Oh, lift thy orbs, up unto mine,
And let one ray of love light shine,
To make my faint hopes certain;
Oh, from suspense, and misery,
Let but a frank smile set me free,
Do fair Alberta.
Thou surely know I loveth thee,
For when I'd show my feeling,
Thou seemst in modesty to thwart,
The flow of love words from my heart,
By chaff and laughter pealing;
Oh, show thy own true self to me!
And let me show my love to thee,
Do shy Alberta.
Alberta, all thy little ways,
Are so familiar to me,
That I am thrilled before you speak;
I guess thy smiles, they make me weak,
A maudlin, lovesick youth, I be:
Oh, break this bitter spell that bind,
By giving me that hand, of thine,
My own Alberta.