Ballad
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.
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.
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