( 4 )
His Sunday’s coat the you h put on,
For Jenny had vow'd away to run
With Jockey to the fair.
The chearful Parish Bells had rung,
With eager steps he trudg’d along,
The flow’ry garlands round him hung,
Which shepherds us’d to wear;
He tapt the window, haste, my dear;
Jenny, impatient, cry’d. Whose there!
’Tis me, my love, and no one near;
Step gently down, you’ve nought to fear,
With jockey at the fair.
My dad and mamma’s fast asleep,
My brother is up, and with his sheep,
And will you still your promise keep,
Which I have heard you swear?
And will you always constant prove?—
I will, and meet you in the grove,
And ne’er deceive my charming dove;
Dispel those doubts, and haste to love,
With Jockey at the fair.
Behold the ring! the shepherd cry’d;
Will Jenny be my charming bride?
Let Cupid be our happy guide,
And Hymen meet us there.
