 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
DICK AND DOLL.
As one bright summer's sultry day,
For sake of shade I sought the grove
Thro' thickset-hedge, on top of hay,
I met with mutual love:
A youth with one arm round his pretty girl's waist,
On small swelling breasts he his other hand plac'd,
While she cry'd Dick be still,
Pray tell me what's your will?
For sake of shade I sought the grove
Thro' thickset-hedge, on top of hay,
I met with mutual love:
A youth with one arm round his pretty girl's waist,
On small swelling breasts he his other hand plac'd,
While she cry'd Dick be still,
Pray tell me what's your will?
“I come (quoth Dick) to have some chat,”
And close to her's, his lips he squeez'd;
“I guess (cries Doll) what you'd be at,
“But now I won't be teaz'd.”
She strove to rise up, but his strength held her down,
She call'd out for help! and petition'd the clown,
“O Dick, dear, let me rise,
“The sun puts out my eyes.
And close to her's, his lips he squeez'd;
“I guess (cries Doll) what you'd be at,
“But now I won't be teaz'd.”
She strove to rise up, but his strength held her down,
She call'd out for help! and petition'd the clown,
“O Dick, dear, let me rise,
“The sun puts out my eyes.
“I'll tear your soul out!—Lord! these men,
“If ever—well—I won't submit.—
“Why? what? the devil!—Curse me then!—
“You'll fling me in a fit.”
Down, like a bent lily, her head dropp'd aslant,
Her eyes lost the day-light, her breath became scant,
And, feebly, on her tongue
Expiring accents hung.
“If ever—well—I won't submit.—
“Why? what? the devil!—Curse me then!—
“You'll fling me in a fit.”
61
Her eyes lost the day-light, her breath became scant,
And, feebly, on her tongue
Expiring accents hung.
The chorus birds sung o'er their heads,
The breeze blew rustling thro' the grove,
Sweet smelt the hay, on new-mown meads,
All seem'd the scene of Love.
Dick offer'd to lift up the lass as she lay,
A look, full of tenderness, told him to stay;
“So soon Dick will you go?
“I wish—dear me!—heigh ho!”
The breeze blew rustling thro' the grove,
Sweet smelt the hay, on new-mown meads,
All seem'd the scene of Love.
Dick offer'd to lift up the lass as she lay,
A look, full of tenderness, told him to stay;
“So soon Dick will you go?
“I wish—dear me!—heigh ho!”
Vibrating with heart-heaving sighs,
Her tucker trembling to and fro',
Her crimson'd cheeks, her glist'ning eyes,
Proclaim'd possession's glow.
Dick bid her farewell, but she, languishing, cry'd,
As wanton she play'd by her fallen shepherd's side;
“A moment! pray sit still,
“Since now you've had your will.”
Her tucker trembling to and fro',
Her crimson'd cheeks, her glist'ning eyes,
Proclaim'd possession's glow.
Dick bid her farewell, but she, languishing, cry'd,
As wanton she play'd by her fallen shepherd's side;
“A moment! pray sit still,
“Since now you've had your will.”
“Lord! (cries the girl) you hasty men,
“Of love afford but one poor proof;
“Our fowls at home, each sparrow hen,
“Is ten times better off.—
“No! that you shou'd not, had I known your design,
“But, since you've had your will, pray let me have mine;
“So, once more, e'er we rise,
“Do, dear Dick, save my eyes.”
“Of love afford but one poor proof;
“Our fowls at home, each sparrow hen,
“Is ten times better off.—
“No! that you shou'd not, had I known your design,
“But, since you've had your will, pray let me have mine;
“So, once more, e'er we rise,
“Do, dear Dick, save my eyes.”
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |