Classic Poem

Ah the mirror hydes thee well
Iffe she cam now
The mirror wud grunt andde creake
Ho for yo're wig fine powder
When this was her fanne ye danced lyke a man
Butte now yo're a lonely scampe in powder
Damn me fine legs andde damn me fine lace
She almost burst her larder
And she squeezed inne her dress tyll her innocents rose
My eyes butte ye hyde inne that mirror long
Com out andde buckle me for I'm late as itte is
Damn me bolde heart its the weather
Ho inne yo're linen andde ruffles ye ther
The mirror hydes thee well
For any maid wude giv ye her leg
For the joy offe yo're eye upon itte
Butte for the rest offe her yo'll wate By God
Gette on yo're late as itte is
Andde the mirror hydes ye well.