Page:Companion of mirth.pdf/8

8 Those low heel'd slippers they do wear, Their gouty legs to shew Sir, Their petticoats are fringed round, They cut a tempting shew Sir: And when their bosoms you do view, The truth I do declare O, A modesty they all must have, If ne're a smock they wear, O.

The farmer's daughters every where, The truth I do lay down Sir, They dress as grand I do declare, As ladies of renown Sir. A cap and feather they must have, And mask all w'er their faces; Let's hope their pride it will come down, To linsey woolsey dresses.

To the Battle March away.

CAN you to the battle march away, And leave me here complaining ? I'm sure 'twill break my heart to stay, When you are gone campaigning.

CHORUS

Ah! no, ah! no, poor Maudlin, Will never quit her rover; Ah! no, ah! no, poor Maudlin, Will go with you all the world over.

Cheer, cheer, my love you shall not grieve, A seldier true you'll find me; I could not have the heart to leave My little girl behind me! Ah! &c.