25
THE MAY MORN BOUQUET.
Come let us goe, while we are in our prime,
And take the harmless follie of the time.
There's not a budding boy or girle, this day,
But is got up, and gone to bring in May.
A deale of youth, ere this, is come
Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have dispacht their cakes and creame,
Before that we have left to dreame;
And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth,
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth;
Many a green gown has been given,
Many a kiss, both odde and even;
Many a glance too has been sent,
From out the eye, Love's firmament.
Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna, come, let's goe a Maying.
Dora alone.
Oh! the morn is bright, the sky is blue,
The sun is shining cheery;
And the may-pole's dressed—but where are you,
My Lubin—where's my dearie?
I've put on all my finest things,
(This kerchief looks so natty!)
My ears have now as handsome rings
As those Will bought for Patty.
