Classic Poem

Were I laid on Greenland's Coast,
And in my Arm's embrac'd my Lass;
Warm amidst eternal Frost,
Too soon the Half Year's Night would pass. I,i
Were I sold on Indian Soil,
Soon as the burning Day was clos'd,
I could mock the sultry Toil,
When on my Charmer's Breast repos'd.

And I would love you all the Day,
Every Night would kiss and play,
If with me you'd fondly stray
Over the Hills and far away.