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When bright morning peep, then soft music sweet,
shall waken my dear from her silent repose,
Singing joy to my bride as she lies by my side,
with lips more sweet than the damask rose.
THE MEN WILL ROMANCE.
When I enter’d my teens I threw play things aside,
I perceiv’d myself woman and fit for a bride,
By young men I was flatter’d my pride to enhance,
Oh! the maids believe when the men they romance.
He swore that my eyes the bright diamonds excel,
Such a face and such tresses he never beheld,
And to gaze on my neck it was rapture and trance,
Ah! the maids believe when the men do romance.
Young Polydore saw me one night at the ball,
And vow’d to my charms he a conquest must fall,
On his knees he intreated my hand for to dance,
Ah! the maids believe when the men do romance.
He conducted me home when the pastime was o’er,
And declar’d he ne’er saw so much beauty before,
How he ogl’d and sigh’d when he saw me advance,
Ah! the maids believe when the men do romance.
Then day after day I his company had,
Till at length he declar’d all his flame to my dad,
But my father lov’d money he would not advance,
He reply’d to my lover, we men will romance.
Altho’ my papa would not give us one shilling,
Yet to wed me my Polydore vow’d he was willing,
So we both went to church, at night we did dance,
And believe me young women he did not romance.
Glasgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertson, Saltmarket. 1802
