Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3811/Kitty Adair
Sweet as a wild-rose was Kitty Adare,
Blithe as a laverock and shy as a hare;
Mid all the grand ladies of all the grand cities
You'd not find the face half so pretty as Kitty's;
"'Tis the fine morning this, Kit," says I; she says, "It is,"
The day she went walking to get to the Fair.
Blithe as a laverock and shy as a hare;
Mid all the grand ladies of all the grand cities
You'd not find the face half so pretty as Kitty's;
"'Tis the fine morning this, Kit," says I; she says, "It is,"
The day she went walking to get to the Fair.
She was bred to give trouble, was Kitty Adare,
For she had my heart caught like a bird in a snare;
O, her laugh was the ripple of quick-running water,
And—the seventh-born child of a seventh-born daughter—
She wore the green shoes that the fairies had brought her
To help her go dancing that day at the Fair
For she had my heart caught like a bird in a snare;
O, her laugh was the ripple of quick-running water,
And—the seventh-born child of a seventh-born daughter—
She wore the green shoes that the fairies had brought her
To help her go dancing that day at the Fair
She'd the foot of a princess, had Kitty Adare,
And the road fell behind her like peel off a pear;
She was into the town with the lads and the lassies,
And the shouting of showmen and braying of asses,
And on to the green where the best of the grass is,
With the sun shining bright on the fun of the Fair!
And the road fell behind her like peel off a pear;
She was into the town with the lads and the lassies,
And the shouting of showmen and braying of asses,
And on to the green where the best of the grass is,
With the sun shining bright on the fun of the Fair!
She was light as a feather, was Kitty Adare,
And she danced like a flame in a current of air;
O, look at her now—she retreating, advancing,
And stepping and stopping, and gliding and glancing
There wasn't a one was her marrow at dancing
Of all the young maidens who danced at the Fair.
And she danced like a flame in a current of air;
O, look at her now—she retreating, advancing,
And stepping and stopping, and gliding and glancing
There wasn't a one was her marrow at dancing
Of all the young maidens who danced at the Fair.
O Kitty, O Kitty, O Kitty Adare,
Till the music was beaten you danced to it there;
And the fiddler, poor fellow, the way that he was in,
Him sweating for six and his bow wanting rosin,
He was put past the fiddling a month—all because in
A pair of green shoes Kitty danced at the Fair!
Till the music was beaten you danced to it there;
And the fiddler, poor fellow, the way that he was in,
Him sweating for six and his bow wanting rosin,
He was put past the fiddling a month—all because in
A pair of green shoes Kitty danced at the Fair!