Holiday Gown

In holiday gown, and my newfangled hat,
Last Monday I tript to the fair;
I held up my head, and I'll tell you for what,
Brisk Roger I guess'd wou'd be there:
He wooes me to marry whenever we meet,
There's honey sure dwells on his tongue!
He hugs me so close, and he kisses so sweet,
I'd wed—if I were not too young.

Fond Sue, I'll assure you, laid hold on the boy,
(The vixen wou'd fain be his bride)
Some token she claim'd, either ribbon or toy,
And swore that she'd not be denied:
A top-knot he bought her, and garters of green,
Pert Susan was cruelly stung;
I hate her so much, that, to kill her with spleen,
I'd wed—if I were not too young.

He whisper'd such soft pretty things in mine ear!
He flatter'd, he promis'd, and swore!
Such trinkets he gave me, such laces and geer,
That trust me,——my pockets ran o'er:
Some ballads he bought me, the best he cou'd find,
And sweetly their burden he sung;
Good faith he's so handsome, so witty, and kind,
I'd wed—if I were not too young.

The sun was just setting, 'twas time to retire,
(Our cottage was distant a mile)
I rose to be gone—Roger bow'd like a squire,
And handed me over the stile:
His arms he threw round me——love laugh'd in his eye,
He led me the meadows among,
There prest me so close, I agreed, with a sigh,
To wed——for I was not too young.