The Lass With The Delicate Air
(Thomas Arne 1719-1778)

Young Molly who liv'd at the foot of the hill
Whose fame ev'ry virgin with envy doth fill
Of beauty is bless'd with so ample a share
Men call her the lass with the delicate air.
   With the delicate air
   Men call her the lass with the delicate air.

One morning last May as I travers;d the grove
In thoughtless retirement, not dreaming of love,
I chanc'd to espy the gay nymph, I declare
And really she had the most delicate air.
   The most delicate air
   And really she had the most delicate air.

By a murmuring brook on a green mossy bed
A chaplet composing, the fair one was laid
Surprised and transported, I could not forbear
With rapture to gaze on her delicate air.
   On her delicate air
   With rapture to gaze on her delicate air.




Josh White's version began:

The tavern was crowded, two couples were there
They were served by a lass with a rose in her hair..

I disremember the rest.