 | Songs of two centuries |  |
149
BICYCLE-SONG.
Oh, Bessie has bought her a bonnet of red,
And started afoot for the ball;
She never was minding a word that I said,
Or looking about for my call!
Quit mourning, quit mourning, good Mother, I say:
She maybe will linger to talk on the way:
I'll follow the truant as well as I may,
And catch her, whatever befall.
And started afoot for the ball;
She never was minding a word that I said,
Or looking about for my call!
Quit mourning, quit mourning, good Mother, I say:
She maybe will linger to talk on the way:
I'll follow the truant as well as I may,
And catch her, whatever befall.
Oh, Bessie has bought her a bonnet of blue,
And started to ride to the ball;
She's taken the speediest horse that she knew,
The swiftest that stood in the stall!
Quit mourning, good Mother, it might have been worse;
There's many a mount that is better than hers;
I'll follow her closely with saddle and purse,
And catch her, whatever befall.
And started to ride to the ball;
She's taken the speediest horse that she knew,
The swiftest that stood in the stall!
Quit mourning, good Mother, it might have been worse;
There's many a mount that is better than hers;
I'll follow her closely with saddle and purse,
And catch her, whatever befall.
Oh, Bessie has bought her a coat and a cap,
And started to wheel to the ball;
With only a bit of a skirt for a lap,
And bloomers distressingly small!
Keep mourning, good Mother: your sobbings repeat;
For whether her going be tardy or fleet,
I never should know her, if her I should meet:
We're lucky to catch her at all!
And started to wheel to the ball;
With only a bit of a skirt for a lap,
And bloomers distressingly small!
Keep mourning, good Mother: your sobbings repeat;
For whether her going be tardy or fleet,
I never should know her, if her I should meet:
We're lucky to catch her at all!
| Songs of two centuries | |