7
Yet hats from bonnets might retire,
And you never shall be my dearie, O.
The Weaver's Daughter.
It was in the charming fine summer weather,
When Flora yields a fine fragrant scent,
A brisk young Squire with his hat and feather
Into the town of Norris went:
And there he tarried—much gold he carried;
He spied a damsel beautiful and fair,
This maid he fancied, her name was Nancy,
A weaver s daughter that lived ther
He fixed his ogling eyes upon her,
With every motion for to enjoy ;
He often crav'd her of her honour,
But modest Nancy was something coy.
He often courted and likewise sported,
And in his arms did her enfold:
He said my dear Nancy if you please my fancy,
I will give you a chain of gold.
I would not blemish your reputation.
For all the favours you could bestow:
I mean to live in an honest station,
No man alive shall serve me so.
Keep your laces—your kind embraces,
Such silly trifles wont my fancy move;
Til death I ll tarry unless I marry
No man alive shall my ruin prove.
