Page:Excellent old song intitled, Maggy Lauther.pdf/6

 Therefore I shall be at your call

To marry a farmer’s son

Dear Nelly, believe me now,

I solemnly swear and vow,

No lords in their lives make pleasure for their wives,

Like fellows that drive the plow.

For whatever they gain with, labour and pain,

They don t to harlots run.

As courtiers do: I never knew,

A London beau that cou'd outdo,

A country farmer's son.

The fond Swain, and the sleeping Maid.

N a bank of flowers,

In a summer day,

Inviting and undrest.

In her bloom of youth.

Fair Celia lay,

With love and fear opprest;

When a youthful swain.

With admiring eyes,

Wish'd that he durst,

The sweet maid surprise-:

With a fa, la, la, &c.

But fear’d approaching spies

As he gaz’d,

A gentle zephyr arose.

That fan’d her robes aside,

And the sleeping nymph

Did the charms disclose,

Which waking she