Mirth and Metre consisting of Poems, Serious, Humorous, and Satirical; Songs, Sonnets, Ballads & Bagatelles. Written by C. Dibdin, Jun |
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MAY WE HAVE IN OUR ARMS WHAT WE
LOVE IN OUR HEARTS. |
 | Mirth and Metre |  |
211
MAY WE HAVE IN OUR ARMS WHAT WE LOVE IN OUR HEARTS.
I'm in love with a gipsey, against common rules,
But when shot by sly Cupid, few can see;
Love is ever like liquor, for making us fools,
And beauty's the offspring of fancy.
Modern beauties are paintings, whose colours won't wear,
Or the stories of fame are untrue, Sir;
And to choose a black beauty cou'd never be fair,
While a brown one will never look blue, Sir.
So once our choice made, a wish reason imparts,
“May we have in our arms what we love in our hearts.”
But when shot by sly Cupid, few can see;
Love is ever like liquor, for making us fools,
And beauty's the offspring of fancy.
Modern beauties are paintings, whose colours won't wear,
Or the stories of fame are untrue, Sir;
And to choose a black beauty cou'd never be fair,
While a brown one will never look blue, Sir.
So once our choice made, a wish reason imparts,
“May we have in our arms what we love in our hearts.”
My fortune she told, but the stars in ill cue,
Misfortune alone were revealing,
For when she was gone, my heart was gone too—
Your gipsies are famous for stealing.
But, 'faith, I've a mind that my breast mayn't be pang'd,
The revenge to pursue, her crime courted,
And marry her, that's something like being hang'd,
While at best it makes you transported.
For once, &c.
Misfortune alone were revealing,
For when she was gone, my heart was gone too—
Your gipsies are famous for stealing.
But, 'faith, I've a mind that my breast mayn't be pang'd,
The revenge to pursue, her crime courted,
And marry her, that's something like being hang'd,
While at best it makes you transported.
For once, &c.
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