Classic Poem

I.

I thought we were fiddle and bow,
So well we in concert kept time,
But, to strike up a part base and low,
Without either reason or rhime:

What a natural was I so soon
With pleasure to quaver away!
For I'm humm'd, I think, now to some tune,
She has left me the piper to pay.

II.

I plainly perceive she's in glee,
And thinks I shall be such a flat
As to shake, but she's in a wrong key,
For she never shall catch me at that.

Whoe'er to the crotchets of love
Lets his heart dance a jig in his breast,
'Twill a bar to his happiness prove,
And shall surely deprive him of rest.