"The Mad Girl's Song" (1840)
The Poetry by T. C. Grattan, Esq.
Music composed and respectfully dedicated to
John H. Eastburn, Esquire,
by Henry Russell, 1812-1900.

Boston, MA: Oakes & Swan, 8 1/2 Tremaine Row
[Source: 055/026@Levy]

[CHORUS]
Oh, the earth wind is mine own true love, let others find him cold;
To me he is warm as a downy dove, when he lies in my bosom's fold;
Oh the earth wind is mine own true love, let others find him cold,
To me he is warm as a downy dove when he lies in my bosom's fold;
Oh! the earth wind is mine own true love,
Oh! the earth wind is mine own true love,
Oh! the earth wind is mine, the wind is mine.

[1.]
The frost work glitt'ring, gems his wings,
As the live-long day he lingers;
And soothes me with soft whisperings,
And twines his icy fingers,
And soothes me with soft whiperings,
and twines his icy fingers

Through these dishevelled locks of mine,
that float so strange and wild,
These dishevelled locks of mine
that float so strange and wild,
that float so strange and wild,
that float so strange and wild,
Oh God where is he, who so oft at their braided beauty smiled,
where is he who so oft at their braided beauty smiled,
where is he, where is he, where is he.

[2. BRIDGE]
The north wind swept the plain of death,
when the battle din was done,
The north wind swept the plain of death,
when the battle din was done,
The north wind swept the plain of death,
when the battle din was done,
And he worked[?] the dead mens mouths for breath,
and he kissed the lips of one

[3.]
Where ? ? ? he breathed by me, who lies in snowy mound,
Coldy 1st? ma-zor-rapt-ing-ly,[?]
Buried above, above the ground!
Buried above the ground!

But the Northwind now is my only love,
He ? ? on the cold,
And he not-ling? lies like a feather'd dove,
within my bosom fold,

(CHORUS)