COURTSHIP of the CANAILLE.
I
My love's so like a fine field day,
No colour does she lack;
But varied, as the rainbow gay,
She's straiter in the back.
II
Her nose is red, her lips are blue,
Her chin as green as grass;
And what of saffron colour'd hue,
Can Ila's neck surpass?
III
My heart how soft it's grown to prove,
Next prisoner I take,
I'll shut him in an image, love,
And burn him for thy sake.
IV
Or shou'd we e'er be put to flight,
And savage foes give chace,
I'll pierce thy bosom with delight,
To save thee from disgrace.
