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To its own proper Tune.
YOung Colin seeks my heart to move.
And speaks & talks fo much of love,
He’ll hang or drown I fear it.
Of pangs and wounds, and pointed darts.
Of Cupid’s bow, and bleeding hearts,
I vow I cannot bear it. I vow, &c.
He Says I’m pretty, mighty well,
And witty too—that’s better still.
And senfible, I swear it;
But words we know are nought but wind.
Unless he’ll freely tell his mind,
I vow I cannot bear it.
The shepherd dances blythe and gay,
And sweetly on his pipe can play ;
I own I like to hear it:
But downcaft locks, and hums and ha’s,
So sadly pleads the lover’s cause,
I vow I cannot bear it.
I with Some friendly nymph or swain,
Would bid the bashful boy speak plain,
I’d wed him, I declare it:
Then pluck up courage like my sex,
The honest youth no more I’ll vex,
I vow and do declare it.
FINIS
