University of Virginia Library

LYDY—Cherning.

Brim full of love fat Lydy sat,
Cheeks like a blooming plumb;
Sweating with all a maiden's strength,
To make the butter come.

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In vain she chern'd, in vain she try'd;
O would our Roger come!
For nothing but a Roger's strength,
Can make my butter come.
Within the pantry Roger skulk'd,
And heard this am'rous hum;
Then fixing fast on Lydy's chern,
He made her butter come.
Lydy cried out—O Roger,—on—
That day may I be dumb;
If once I toil—when you so soon,
Can make my butter come.