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THE SPINNING WHEEL.
To eaſe his heart and own his flame,
Young <Jocky> to my cottage came,
And tho’ I lik'd him paſſing weel,
I careleſs turn'd my ſpinning-wheel.
My milk-white hand he did extol,
And prais'd my fingers long and ſmall:
Unuſual joy my heart did feel,
But ſtill I turn'd my ſpinning-wheel.
Then round about my ſlender waiſt
He claſp’d his arms, and me embrac'd;
To kiſs my hand he down did kneel,
But yet I turn'd my ſpinning-wheel.
With gentle voice I bid him riſe.
He bleſs'd my neck, my lips, and eyes:
My fondneſs I could ſcarce conceal,
But yet I turn'd my ſpinning-wheel.
’Till, bolder grown, ſo cloſs he preſs'd,
His wanton thoughts I quickly gueſs'd;
Then puſh'd him from my rock and reel,
And angry turn’d my ſpinning-wheel.
At laſt, when I began to chide,
He ſwore he meant me for his bride;
’Twas them my love I did reveal,
And flung away my ſpinning-wheel.
