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for my father's angry talking,

I'd frankly own that I was walking

With one—whom he could not discover—

Frown he or not—it was my lover.

if my father would not scold me,

I'd tell him what my lover told me;

And what he gave—a secret this is—

Scold he or not—'twas love's sweet kisses.

if my father would not wonder

I'd tear the secret's veil asunder—

Wonder or not—my lover made me

A sweet and solemn vow to wed me.