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When silver snow decks Susan's clothes,
And jewel hangs at th' shepherd's nose,
The blushing bank is all my care,
With hearth so red and walls so fair;
'Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it higher,
'The oaken log lay on the fire.'
The well-washed stools, a circling row,
With lad and lass, how fair the show!
The merry can of nut-brown ale,
The laughing jest, the love-sick tale:
'Till, tired of chat, the game begins,
The lasses prick the lads with pins;
Roger from Dolly twitched the stool,
She falling, kissed the ground, poor fool!
She blushed so red, with side-long glance
At hob-nail Dick who grieved the chance.
But now for Blind-man's Buff they call;
Of each incumbrance clear the hall!
Jenny her silken 'kerchief folds.
And blear-eyed Will the black lot holds;
Now, laughing, stops, with 'Silence! hush!'
And Peggy Pout gives Sam a push.
The Blind-man's arms, extended wide,
Sam slips between;—O woe betide
Thee, clumsy Will!—but tittering Kate
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