Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/120

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When our Vit went a-wooing,
Down the winding lane,
Not a cloud was in the sky
To betoken rain.
In his best clothes he went wooing,
Starched -up shirt and collar showing
Now a decent lad goes wooing
While a bachelor still.

When he came back from his wooing
’Twas a-pouring rain;
Drenched he was from head to foot—
That did give him pain.
Soaking wet was all his clothing,
And they mocked him well for going,
While they looked at him with loathing
In his sorry plight.

Poor young man, this had not happened
Had he stayed at home,
After a coquettish maid
It is hard to roam.
While she frowned upon his wooing,
See this happened to him, showing
One must be quite sure of winning,
Qr the girl may mock.