Classic Poem

It is all very well for the poets to tell,
By way of their song adorning,
Of milkmaids who rouse, to manipulate cows,
At Five o'clock in the morning;
And of moony young mowers who bundle out doors —
The charms of their straw-beds scorning —
Before break of day, to make love and hay,
At Five o'clock in the morning!

But, between me and you, it is all untrue —
Believe not a word they utter;
To no milkmaid alive does the finger of Five
Bring a beau — or even bring butter.
The poor sleepy cows, if told to arouse,
Might do so with some suborning;
But the sweet country girls, would they show their curls
At Five o'clock in the morning?

It is all very well to sing or to tell,
But if I were a maid, all forlorn-ing,
And a lover should drop in the clover, to pop,
At Five o'clock in the morning, —
If I liked him, you see, I 'd say, " Please call at Three; "
If not, I 'd turn on him with scorning:
" Don't come here, you flat, with conundrums like that,
At Five o'clock in the morning! "