Scripscrapologia or, Collins's Doggerel Dish Of All Sorts. Consisting of Songs Adapted to familiar Tunes, And which may be sung without the Chaunterpipe of an Italian Warbler, or the ravishing Accompaniments of Tweedle-Dum or Tweedle-Dee. Particularly those which have been most applauded in the author's once popular performance, call'd, The Brush. The Gallimaufry garnished with a variety of comic tales, quaint epigrams, whimsical epitaphs, &c. &c. [by John Collins] |
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137
COLLIN AND PHŒBE's CUCKOO, A Song.
In the Fields, when to Phœbe, one sweet Summer's Day,
I was making of Love, and she making of Hay,
On a sudden she lean'd on her Prong, and cry'd, “Pray
“Hark, hark,—Don't you hear? There's the Cuckoo!
I was making of Love, and she making of Hay,
On a sudden she lean'd on her Prong, and cry'd, “Pray
“Hark, hark,—Don't you hear? There's the Cuckoo!
Then my Shoulder she tapp'd, and cry'd, “Collin, I fear,
“No Cuckoo this Season before struck your Ear,
“So, if pennyless now, you'll be poor thro' the Year;
“Dear Heart, how unlucky a Cuckoo!”
“No Cuckoo this Season before struck your Ear,
“So, if pennyless now, you'll be poor thro' the Year;
“Dear Heart, how unlucky a Cuckoo!”
With a Clasp then so close that she could not withstand,
Cry'd I, “tis in Vain that my Fortune you've scann'd,
“For if Empty in Purse, I've an Angel in Hand;
“So I think I'm a Match for the Cuckoo!”
Cry'd I, “tis in Vain that my Fortune you've scann'd,
“For if Empty in Purse, I've an Angel in Hand;
“So I think I'm a Match for the Cuckoo!”
Like an Angel, then, smiling, she nam'd Time and Place,
When and where, for Love's Banquet, the Priest might say Grace,
And she tells me, she now never looks in my Face,
But it puts her in Mind of a Cuckoo!
When and where, for Love's Banquet, the Priest might say Grace,
And she tells me, she now never looks in my Face,
But it puts her in Mind of a Cuckoo!
This poor little Bird, they'd persuade me bodes Horns,
But to prove, Love if blind, blinder Prejudice scorns,
An old Piece of Dutch Clockwork our Chimney adorns,
And we all the Year round hear the Cuckoo!
But to prove, Love if blind, blinder Prejudice scorns,
An old Piece of Dutch Clockwork our Chimney adorns,
And we all the Year round hear the Cuckoo!
| Scripscrapologia | ||