I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land— Still, had it such a value Unto my frugal eye— That when I could not find it— I sat me down to sigh.
I had a crimson Robin— Who sang full many a day But when the woods were painted, He, too, did fly away—
Time brought me other Robins— Their ballads were the same— Still, for my missing Troubador I kept the “house at hame.”
I had a star in heaven— One “Pleiad” was its name— And when I was not heeding, It wandered from the same. And tho’ the skies are crowded— And all the night ashine— I do not care about it— Since none of them are mine.
My story has a moral— I have a missing friend— “Pleiad” its name, and Robin, And guinea in the sand. And when this mournful ditty Accompanied with tear— Shall meet the eye of traitor In country far from here— Grant that repentance solemn May seize upon his mind— And he no consolation Beneath the sun may find.
