Pride and vanity of young women/The Lass with the Delicate Air

The LASS with the Delicate Air.

YOung Molly that lives at the foot of a hill,
Whose fame every virgin with envy does fill,
Of beauty is blest of so ample a share,
That men call her the lass with the delicate air,
⁠with the delicate air,
That men call her the lass with the delicate air.

⁠One morning last May I traversed the grove,
In thoughtless retirement not dreaming of love,
There I chanced to spy the dear nymph I declare,
And really she’d got a most delicate air,
⁠Most delicate air, &c.

⁠By a murmuring brook, ne’er a green mossy bed,
A chaplet composing the fair one was laid,
Surpriz’d and transported, I could not forbear,
With rapture to gaze on her delicate air,
⁠On her delicate air, &c.

⁠That moment young Cupid had fastened his dart,
And pierc’d without pity my innocent heart,
From thence how to gain the maid was my care,
For really she’d got a most delicate air,
⁠Most delicate air, &c.

⁠When she saw me she blush’d, & said I was rude,
And begg’d of all things that I would not intrude,
I told her I could not tell how I came there,
But laid all the blame on her delicate air,
⁠On her delicate air, &c.

⁠I said her heart was the prize I fought to obtain,
And begg’d she would give it to ease my sad pain,
She neither rejected nor granted my prayer,
But fir’d all my heart with her delicate air,
⁠With her delicate air, &c.

⁠A thousand times since I’ve repeated my suit,
And still the tormentor effects to be mute,
Come tell me ye swains who have conquer’d the fair,
How to win the dear lass with the delicate air,
⁠With the delicate air,
How to win the dear lass with the delicate air.